An International Exchange
by Golden28
Summary: Hermione Granger is placed in the BAU as part of a magical/muggle exchange program. The only person privy to her real identity is Agent Cruz. Her placement in the team is unexpected and rubs the agents the wrong way. When she and Morgan end up in a difficult situation on a case in Washington, will they end up finding common ground? Honestly? They both find it unlikely. (One Shots).
1. Chapter 1: The First Case

**A/N: I do not own Criminal Minds or Harry Potter. (Though it would be really awesome if I did.)**

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

Hermione ground her teeth as her ears were assaulted by the annoying whine that was Alan Vick's voice. The money launderer was perched in the middle of the SUV's back seat. From this position, he had started talking as soon as they'd pulled out of the Spokane Police Department parking lot.

Next to her Morgan's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, going almost white. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

She'd sensed that he hadn't been pleased to be put on protective detail when the team was moving in to take down Vick's former boss, a Russian mafia official. Her presence on this detail did nothing to make the assignment easier. Hermione had been suddenly sprung on the team by Unit Chief Cruz as part of the Magical Auror exchange program. However the team didn't know that she was a witch – Cruz was the only person who knew her true affiliations. The minute she'd been introduced to the team she'd realized there would be tension. And sitting next to a man who was a ball of tension at the moment, she knew she'd been right.

Derek Morgan didn't trust her so much she could smell it on him like cologne.

If Morgan thought that he was getting a crappy assignment on Vick's protective detail, Hermione thought, he had no idea what a crappy assignment really looked like.

* * *

After finishing their final year at Hogwarts Harry and Hermione had been called to a mysterious meeting by Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Prime Minister of the Magical United Kingdom. He'd explained that there were a vast number of free Death Eaters still in England and the Auror force, along with Magical Law Enforcement wasn't equipped to catch them. The Death Eaters had been forming groups that still terrorized the people of Europe, despite their leadership being destroyed. On the whole they weren't a threat to the government or to muggles. But the public lived in fear of these people, and their numbers were growing. At the conclusion of the meeting, Harry had been appointed Commander of Dumbledore's Army. Hermione had been declared, Lieutenant Commander, Harry's right hand. Ron had elected to join the Chuddley Cannons, which effectively ended their relationship because neither wanted to do the long distance thing. The D.A. had quickly rebuilt itself and folded members of local militias into its ranks until their numbers swelled to thousands. Their mission was to ensure the safety of the Magical United Kingdom, while the Aurors focused more on investigations and crime. Each magical community had an outpost of D.A. troops to maintain the peace, except of course in Southern England, where the Death Eaters kept a strong hold. No one had managed to breach their borders.

Two months ago, Hermione had been hunting fleeing Death Eaters in Surrey when she'd been captured. The collective of Death Eaters had formed a cartel of sorts that controlled the local Auror office and ran a variety of magical drugs in Southern England. Hermione and Harry had been called in by Gawain Robards, the head of the Auror Department when he realized the situation. The assignment was supposed to be simple, but had turned out to be anything but. That day in Surrey, Hermione had led a squad of soldiers into an ambush. The intention had been to take her alive and use her to get Harry. She'd been tortured again. Beaten, stabbed and had her fingernails removed. Harry had rescued her, yet again. All of the soldiers had been killed. Then the Death Eaters had placed a bounty of one million galleons on her head. There had been three attempts on her life just during her recovery time.

* * *

Two weeks later she'd been reassigned to the Aurors and then transferred to the FBI like she was an unwanted step child. She'd met with the Director of the FBI while they'd gone over her cover. To the members of the BAU she was a Captain in the British Army and a member of the Intelligence Division. Beyond that they would reveal no details about her unless it was necessary.

"Do you want to get out?" Hermione asked dryly.

"Are you kidding? It's raining buckets out there and we're in the middle of nowhere!" Vick exclaimed.

"Then we aren't there yet," She told him.

Alan Vick shifted his weight in the back seat, rattling his chains and glaring at her. She ignored him and also Morgan who gave her what felt like the tenth side eye of the day.

"So what'd you do to piss Agent Superman over there off," Vick questioned her.

Hermione ignored the taunt.

"Well big guy? She isn't going to tell me." Vick smiled his thick moustache curving upwards. It reminded her of a dead mouse because of its dull brown color. "Oh, wait, am I sensing something? This isn't professional is it? This is personal. Did you two break up? Let me guess- it was her. She doesn't love you anymore so she got rid of your ass, didn't she?"

Hermione's lips twitched slightly when Morgan looked revolted. She had no idea if he had a girlfriend but assumed he did. The pretty ones were never single.

"You know what you should win her back with a grand romantic gesture. I've always liked those, but I've never been a big enough idiot to need to use one. There's this huge meteor shower coming up next week. Plan a picnic and a passionate declaration of your love-"

"I don't need romantic advice from you," Morgan broke in, turning down the long driveway to the remote farmhouse they were staying in. "Also, we're not together nor have we ever been."

"So you just have stick up your ass all the time?" The money launderer asked.

"I cannot wait to see you behind bars," Morgan growled, stopping the car in front of the safe house.

"I think I'll fare nicely in prison," Vick announced as Hermione came around and opened his door. "Especially since I'm not going."

"You really think you'll be that lucky at trial," Morgan asked.

"Maybe I will," The short man responded.

In the next second a shot rang out, whizzing by Hermione's head. Morgan grabbed Vick and threw him to the ground. Hermione drew her gun as she dropped to the ground, firing back in the general direction of the shots, at the roof of the detached garage. Her third shot hit a shadowy figure, and he grunted as he tumbled from the roof to the ground with a loud crash. Rising to her feet she took raced to the person, intent on disarming him. She caught the man by the lapels of his jacket, jerking him out of the bushes he'd landed in and shoving him face first to the ground. She saw a high powered rifle laying in the bushes behind him as she forced his hands behind his back and cuffed them.

"Hey!" Morgan's yell startled her and she whipped around to see Alan Vick sprinting away.

She grabbed her semiconscious charge and pulled him over to the metal drain pipe which she fastened him to with a second set of cuffs she transfigured from her scarf. Deciding he was as secure as he'd ever be she left the sharpshooter behind to chase after her partner.

It didn't take her long to find him at the edge of the woods, looking furious. With caution she approached him.

"Which way did he go?"

"The trees are so damn thick I can't even tell. The rain made it too slick for the mud to hold tracks. He got up here before I got around the side of the house," Morgan spat.

Hermione nodded, and ventured a ways up the poorly marked dirt path, hunting for clues as to where their fugitive had gone.

"There aren't any tracks," the agent repeated with irritation.

She ignored him, and continued to observe the grassy area for any disturbed patches that the untrained eye might miss.

"You're not going to find anything," Morgan called to her. "I'm calling in for backup and seeing if we can't get a chopper in the air. Maybe some dogs, too. He won't get far."

He didn't sound very confident. The woods were dense and if a man knew what he was doing he could hide out there for weeks. Alan Vick had been an avid hunter. A fear that he'd just let a fugitive escape was growing in Morgan as he reported to Penelope and hung up. He stood back and watched Granger hunt for nothing in the grass.

"He went this way," Hermione said pointing to a grassy area just off the path.

Morgan looked, searching for something he'd missed. There was nothing in the area to indicate that someone had walked there.

"You can't tell that," he snapped, frustrated.

"Actually, city boy, I can," Hermione hissed back, her patience breaking. "These duller patches of grass are caused by his footprints. He stayed off the path to prevent tracks, but because of the rain his steps wash away the dampness. Where he hasn't stepped is shiny and where he has is dull. Trackers call it a ghost sign."

Derek looked again, to find that she was right. The grass was slightly darker where she had pointed. "I'll call in our position. Can you track him?"

"Yes."

They continued up the mountain in silence, Hermione leading. She kept a close eye on the ground, spotting tracks and occasionally relying on instinct and picking the path of least resistance. She successfully tracked him over the rough terrain, leading them to a flat area. There the tracks ended. Hermione stopped, confused. Morgan climbed over the ridge behind her, panting slightly. There was a twinge of pride in her chest when she realized that she wasn't even winded. All those training expeditions with the D.A. had made her used to moving over all kinds of ground, from rugged forests to beaches and mudflats.

"He stops here for some reason." She turned in a careful circle looking for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing nothing she crouched down and put her head right next to the ground, leaning to the side so that she could see the lay of the land more clearly.

"What on earth are you doing?" Morgan asked.

"There are tracks around here somewhere. A lower perspective can help me find them. Just from seeing where the dust and water settles gives it away sometimes."

"It's like having my own Sacajawea," Derek commented, looking at her strangely. "They teach you to do this in the Army?"

"Some. My father taught me more." She pushed up and moved to a pile of leaves, carefully moving them aside. A clear footprint was revealed. "Here. He's turned back on the trail now, probably thinking he's out run us."

"He couldn't have run up that mountain it was riddled with holes, vines and underbrush," Morgan said, sounding disgusted.

"Not a big fan of hiking I take it?" She asked.

"I like hiking when it's on a trail. A clearly marked trail with signs and grading so that the hills are easier to get up. You must hike all the time or live at the gym."

There was something like respect in his tone and she noted it, but didn't read too much into it. He was probably just happy they were able to track this guy before he got very far. From what little she knew about Derek Morgan she assumed that he detested failure of any sort.

"The ruck marches are nothing to sneeze at," Hermione offered as an explanation. "The officers will always chose the harder route. Bonus points for knee high mud and freezing temperatures."

She was usually the one ordering those ruck marches, but she didn't mention that, knowing it conflicted with her cover.

"How much farther do you think he got? I chased him down last week and he wasn't that fast."

"I think he'll run as far as he assumes is needed and then hole up somewhere. He'll need access to water. Do you hear that?"

They paused, listening.

"Running water. There's a river up here somewhere that runs down the mountain. I saw it on Reid's map."

"He'll probably use it to disguise his scent from the dogs and store some water. Let's go," Hermione said drawing her weapon again.

They proceeded following the trail. It was easier to track him now that he was on the path. Hermione could see spots where the leaves were crunched down and even noted a few clear prints. They were getting close, she could feel it. Around the next bend they came upon the river, swollen beyond its borders from the rain. In a little while it would go down, washing away the majority of their fugitive's scent. Though she didn't want to be, Hermione found herself impressed with the amount of thought Alan Vick had put into running even while on the fly.

Following the tracks, she veered off the path again, moving silently towards the river. Derek trialed closely after her. The duo reached the edge of the river, where the tracks were clear in the mud, weaving in and out of the water. He'd done an effective job of masking his scent, Hermione realized, deciding that she'd underestimated Vick's intelligence. Ahead of her she caught a slight movement and snapped her head around, staring in that direction. An ancient tree, with half of its trunk gone somehow still managed to stand up right against the elements.

Was it hollow?

If so, it would be a great hiding place. Hermione made her way towards it, keeping one eye on the tracks she could just barely make out as they left the muddy river bank and stepped on to grass. Morgan followed her silently, gripping his gun tighter as he caught the tension in Hermione's body language.

"Come out, Vick. I know you're in that tree, because I can see your foot sticking out. I will shoot you if you run," Hermione announced.

"You can't shoot me, it's illegal!" His shrill voice came from inside the tree.

"There are no witnesses," Hermione responded coldly. "You have three seconds to come out before I pull the trigger. One. Two."

Hands emerged first, from around side of the tree, followed by the pale face of Alan Vick. Morgan moved forward and cuffed the former accountant while Hermione held him at gun point.

"Just get me out of here, guys. It was cold in that tree and I didn't have a coat," Vick shivered violently and Hermione could see the gooseflesh on his arms in the chilly Northwestern fall air. However, he'd made them climb up a mountain and get soaked to the knees in mud, leaves and rain water; Hermione didn't feel much sympathy for him. Morgan led him back toward the trail and they began down it. Half way down Hermione offered to take a hold of Vick to give Derek a break. He gladly complied as the trail became much steeper downwards and she was much more surefooted. Deliberately she led him to the most difficult path. Only a few steps down it, Vick hit a rough patch and tumbled down the hill into a mud puddle.

"Whoops," Hermione sighed emotionlessly, sliding down to grab onto the criminal.

Morgan laughed, for the first time since she'd met him ten days ago as she dragged the squealing ex-fugitive to his feet.

She didn't bother to wipe the wet mud off of Vick, despite knowing he was probably freezing between his wet clothes and the wind. Their group made it down the mountain in a fraction of the time it had taken them to get up it. Just as they were crossing the field between the house and the mountain six SUV's raced down the drive and fanned out in the farmyard.

Tired, muddy and cold, the three came around the side of the house, almost walking into Hotch.

"You caught him," Their boss said, unable to mask his surprise. His eyes skimmed over the three of them with something Hermione thought might be concern.

"Yep," Morgan said, reaching over and catching Vick's arm. "Let's get our runner in a car, where he can't escape again."

He walked off, flanked by a group of agents wearing FBI windbreakers who all kept a close eye on the handcuffed accountant. Hotch watched them walk away, and then turned to Hermione.

"How?" Was his only word.

"I track him through the woods," Hermione said. He glowered down at her. She knew that Hotch hated being over ridden by Cruz, and even more than that, hated working with someone he hadn't personally hired and vetted. To him Hermione Granger was a wild card and this man didn't like wild cards. He reminded her a little of her father and it made her edgy. She'd felt the glare of her father's disapproval more than once in recent years since she'd restored his memory. Now she could see it in Hotch's face, but firmly reminded herself it wasn't her fault. She'd done nothing to deserve his censure. Hermione raised her chin and met his eyes, looking at him with a blank stare.

They watched each other like that for a long minute.

"Good work," Hotch said finally. "But next time don't go into unknown terrain without a group to back you up. He could have gotten the drop on you or separated you. Wait, we can always bring in dogs."

Hermione resisted the urge to say that she was an expert in unknown terrain and that she and Derek had been perfectly fine. Here, she followed orders, she didn't give them. In the last few days she'd reminded herself of that more times than she could count.

They booked Vick into jail, changed into fresh clothes and finalized paperwork on the arrest of Vick's boss. In the early morning hours the team boarded the jet bound for Quantico and settled in for a long flight. Hermione dozed, unable to fall asleep around people she didn't trust regardless of exhaustion. A weight settled beside her and she opened her eyes to see Derek Morgan filling the seat next to her. He carried a blanket which he passed to her.

"It looked like you could use this," He said awkwardly.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, a bit confused by his gesture. She unfolded the blanket and drew it up to her chin, snuggling into it. Morgan watched her carefully before he spoke.

"I'm glad you were out there with me. Alan Vick may have gotten away without your help."

"I'm sure you'd have eventually found him," Hermione reassured.

"I doubt it. He'd covered his scent well and with all that rain…." He trailed off.

Hermione stayed silent because he was right. She'd only been being nice by not pointing it out.

"I know I haven't been receptive to having you here and neither has the team." Morgan's words sounded rehearsed, but still genuine, as if he'd put a lot of thought into them. "But I've gotten the sense that you aren't here willingly either."

It was a question not a statement, and Hermione shrugged noncommittally. The last thing she wanted to do was insult him by telling him she'd rather be somewhere else. The BAU was an elite unit in the muggle world, but she had no desire to be anywhere but back in England, hunting Death Eaters. A sliver of guilt worked its way into her chest as she considered that there were hundreds of people who wished they could have her current job.

"Regardless, I can see you're an asset to the team. I'm sorry for being so brusque the past few weeks."

Looking into his whiskey colored eyes, Hermione realized that he was actually troubled over his treatment of her. She'd pegged him as a thoughtful person after a couple days of working with him, but she was surprised that he'd take the time to apologize to a woman he barely knew.

"Thank you. I didn't blame you, I can appreciate that it was a difficult situation for everyone," She told him honestly.

"That doesn't excuse me borderline ignoring you and snarling at your every comment," Morgan insisted. She nodded, not knowing what to say to reassure him.

The pair settled into a comfortable silence as the rest of the plane was asleep. Rossi snored quietly and JJ had slumped onto Reid's shoulder a few minutes ago. Hermione shut her eyes again and accepted that it would be several hours before she got to sleep.

"Are you an insomniac," Morgan asked quietly.

Hermione's eyes opened. "No. Why?"

"We've been awake at least thirty six hours, hiked up a mountain and yet you're still awake. Is it the plane?"

Uncomfortable, Hermione shrugged. Admitting that she didn't trust him and the team, and therefore couldn't sleep, wasn't an admission she wanted to make to a man who'd just apologized to her.

"I have trouble sleeping around other people," She said finally when he kept waiting for a response.

"Around people, or around people you don't know?" His knowing gaze bore into her.

"The second one," Hermione admitted.

Morgan grinned, striking her with how handsome he was when he smiled.

"I have nightmares about my… ah, deployments," Hermione admitted looking away.

"You've been in combat," Derek, said as though stating a fact.

Her brow crinkled when she regarded at him again, knowing that wasn't a logical observation. In the Muggle armed forces, women had been kept out of combat with a fervor until recently.

"You have a certain quality about you that's battle hardened. Rossi's the one who picked up on it."

She breathed out a deep breath and then nodded, watching him for a reaction. Seeing none she relaxed. Hermione didn't understand why but she always watched the reactions of the people she told about her service. Inexplicably, the reaction she hated the most was admiration.

"You trust me, at least a little, don't you?" Morgan asked her suddenly.

"Yes," Hermione responded.

"If I stay with you, will you at least try to fall asleep?"

"Of course," She said immediately. Her whole body was crying for some rest and the drive home would be much easier with a nap behind her. Enviously her eyes drifted to the rest of the plane, where the rest of the BAU was relaxed into unconsciousness.

Morgan rose and snagged a pillow off of the adjacent seat and handed it to her. "Curl up however is comfortable for you but keep your hand on my arm. The touch should calm your subconscious enough for you to sleep."

Hermione didn't buy it, but she was tired enough that she did so, not wanting to refuse and offend her new found ally. With the pillow she was much more comfortable. Under her palm the heat from Derek's arm warmed her, reminding her that he was watching out for her. Within a few minutes she was dozing. Seconds later she dropped off into a deep sleep, unaware that Derek remained awake, keeping his promise and watching over her as she slept.

* * *

 **Please leave me a review. I'm trying to expand my short story writing capabilities, so if you have a Hermione/Derek idea, send it my way. I promise to at least consider it.**


	2. Chapter 2: Spencer

**A/N: Thank you for the fantastic response this story has generated. At first I was not even sure that I would post it because I wasn't sure there was an audience for it. However, I did so anyways, and I've been amazed by all of the activity in response. Thank you!**

 **What I've decided to do with this story is to post short stand alone type scenes that are very similar to one shots but are still related. This is to help me work on writing short stories, as I have a tendency to be very long winded when I write.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or Harry Potter.**

* * *

"We've confirmed that they're inside," The voice of the SWAT team commander crackled over Hermione's ear piece.

She waited impatiently in the command center, a former FedEx delivery bus that had become a bustling hub of activity in the last four hours. Unconsciously she rubbed her forearm remembering what it was like to be in the position that their victim was in right now. Though she tried to remain objective the memories of Bellatrix Lestrange were coming back as were the memories of three months ago. Her mind flashed back to the feel of Walden Macnair pulling the back molars from her jaw with pliers when he'd tortured her. Nausea curled in her stomach and she ignored it with practiced ease. _Focus_ she reminded herself, studying the TV screens in front of her that showed varying views of the street outside the van.

Three days ago, the team had been called to Houston, Texas to track down a sadistic killer who had turned out to be a black widow. She'd killed seven men in the last four weeks by luring them in with the promise of sex. As an ex-prostitute, her routine was perfect. At a local bar she waited, picking a seat at a center table and waiting around, looking sad and pretending to be stood up by a date. Inevitably she was approached by a somewhat inebriated man who she enticed outside, where she struck him with a collapsible baton she kept in her purse. The men then woke up chained to a metal table in an abandon warehouse without realizing what had happened to them. Reid's map had helped them narrow down her comfort area and they'd been able to canvas with a picture of her from a security camera. It was Rossi and JJ who had gotten lucky with some of the girls on the street. They'd recognized her, giving a first name and the address of her old apartment. Back tracing the name and the apartment rental agreement, Garcia had come up with Yolanda Simmons.

Currently Yolanda Simmons was about to cut out an innocent man's throat.

"We're having trouble getting a target," a second voice crackled through the comm.

Hermione gritted her teeth as a sharp pain traveled from her forearm up her humerus and into her shoulder. _It's all in your head_ , she reminded herself.

"There may be better visibility from the south facing window," Hermione advised. "If you move to the other side and set up on the five story building with the overhang you should have a good angle. It's also a shorter distance."

Silence followed.

"Do it, Jordan," The SWAT commander instructed his officer. "Good eye, agent."

Hermione didn't bother responding, keeping her eyes on the video screen. Hotch shifted restlessly behind her and she could tell that the former operative was itching to be out in the field instead of cooped inside the bus. She felt his pain.

"I have a target," The SWAT officer from earlier spoke. The red GPS dot that blinked his position had moved from the north side of the building to the south, where Hermione had recommended.

"Prepare to enter," the team commander announced.

Once inside, the team was efficient in quickly taking down the suspect. From the safety of the command center she and Hotch listened to the action unfolding. It was over in a few quick minutes as Yolanda surrendered and was arrested. The rest of the team finally arrived from the police station and they poured into the command center.

"What happened?" JJ asked.

"She just surrendered," Hotch replied. "SWAT is taking her in right now. The victim is in route to the Trauma Center right now, he sustained only a few injuries."

No sigh of relief went up, but the pinched look on the team member's faces eased. It had been a trying case for everyone. The victims had been killed with an extreme amount of violence, some decapitated, others disemboweled and some beaten to mere pulp. How one woman could contain so much anger and rage, Hermione couldn't comprehend. But she knew it was possible, and her arm throbbed with a reminder of why. _It's all in your head,_ she repeated again.

The door slammed shut as the SWAT commander stepped inside. His eyes skimmed over the agents and then settled on her. He looked her up and down, assessing.

"So you're a sniper?" He said curiously.

All eyes swung to her. Hermione felt the curious stares of the team on her as they waited for her answer. Derek's gaze penetrated her the most. He'd already seen what she was capable of in the field.

"No," She told the man. "I'm familiar with their tactics though. I've worked with some of them."

He nodded, looking satisfied. "Your call made this mission come together. I didn't see that vantage point myself and I'm a former marine scout sniper. You'd have made a hell of a spotter."

"Thank you," she said, pleased by his compliment. Hotch stood beside her, his arms crossed over his chest. He said nothing. In the past week or so he'd gained some confidence in her abilities, but his distrust was still palpable. At every opportunity he watched her and she could see the wheels turning in his mind while he analyzed her. It was his misgivings that kept her from integrating with the rest of the team. After some more discussion the team returned to the downtown Houston police station to finish case files and gather their things. Hermione rode back in the SUV driven by Morgan, with JJ in the passenger seat and Dr. Reid beside her.

She wasn't sure what to think of Dr. Reid. He was brilliant but in a very different way than she was. Besides that, he'd said very little to her and she had the distinct sense that he disliked her.

Not mistrusted, as the rest of them did, but disliked.

The team separated to different corners of the police department to finish their paper work. Morgan, Rossi and Hermione stayed in the conference room while JJ and Reid wandered off to the break room. Hotch went to the spare office next door where he wouldn't be interrupted. Focusing on her report, Hermione reread it, making sure that all the details were in order. She'd only recently learned to write up cases and wasn't entirely satisfied with her skills. Rossi had been impressed though, so she supposed it may have been the perfectionist in her. In the end the report was fairly well written and she made a few minor edits to clarify certain points. Finalizing the report, she gave it to the desk clerk. From there she moved to the coffee bar where Spencer was leaning with a steaming cup in his hand. She acknowledged him with a nod, but didn't bother with small talk as she doctored her coffee with cream and sugar.

"So how are you liking the team?" Reid asked her, taking her by surprise.

He stood just off to the side of her, fiddling with the rim of his coffee cup. The thick edge had been peeled back, probably by him, and he was focused on rolling it back up.

"Fine, thank you," Hermione said. She realized the words came out a bit formal, but the man had barely spoken to her in the entire four weeks they'd been working together. All of their previous exchanges had been in direct relationship to their work.

"Have you gotten all of your things moved over from London?"

Hermione barely resisted raising an eyebrow. This was getting ridiculous. "Yes, I finished that two weeks ago. I'm all settled in."

"Good, that's good," Spencer said awkwardly. He swirled the liquid in his cup staring intently into it, as though it held the answers to every question that had ever been asked.

"Is there something you'd like to ask me, Dr. Reid?"

He stopped with the coffee cup and met her eyes. Hermione regarded him evenly as he stared at her. Finally, he set the cup down on the counter and focused on her.

"I have a few questions for you, Captain Granger."

"I'll answer them if I can," She told him truthfully.

The genius gave a short nod. His next words surprised her.

"1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13. What number comes next?"

"Twenty-one," Hermione said.

Spencer nodded, as though he'd expected her to answer correctly and leaned back against the counter. He propped his hip on it and scowled at her suspiciously, then continued.

"Jane is sixteen. She is four times as old as her brother. How old will Jane be when she is twice as old as her brother?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Twenty-four."

"Out of this series what number doesn't belong? 2 - 3 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 14 - 15 – 30."

"Eight. What's the point of this?" She demanded. Dr. Reid ignored her and pressed on.

"What number is a quarter of a half of a fifth of two hundred?"

Hermione had to pause and consider that, but for no more than a second. "Five."

"One, eight, twenty-seven, skip a number, one hundred twenty-five, two hundred sixteen. What's the missing number?"

"Sixty-four and this is getting ridiculous, I'm not answering anymore questions! I know what you're doing and I don't appreciate it, Dr. Reid."

"I don't have to ask any more questions. I can already tell that your IQ is far above normal. Many people of above average intelligence can't recognize patterns that quickly and 97% of them can't do it verbally. You're like me."

Hermione shook her head. "Not really. I only read five hundred words a minute."

"This isn't about speed reading. I can tell your IQ is well over 140."

"Intelligence can't be quantifiably measured," she shot back.

"I agree."

"Well that was interesting!" Hermione and Reid whirled at the sound of Rossi's voice.

Behind them, the whole team stood, holding their bags. She and Spencer's had been brought along, and sat at the feet of the group, abandon. All of them were staring. JJ looked shocked, Morgan smug and Rossi delighted. Hotch wore the same expression he always had on. Hermione was beginning to wonder if the man's facial muscles were functional.

"She's been lying to us!" Spencer accused vehemently.

"Hey, watch your tone-" Morgan began, but both Hermione and Spencer ignored him.

"No, I simply haven't shared every single detail of my life. It's called reserve." Hermione hissed. He had no right to call her out like that!

"You deliberately hid your intelligence! I want to know why." Eyes glittering with justified rage, Spencer stepped right up to her and glared down at her. "We know nothing about you and you haven't exactly been forthright."

"Please refer to my last statement for an explanation," She growled, nose to nose with the tall man. "Anyways, you're the human computer- figure it out."

Shocked by her intensity, Spencer blinked.

"We're all waiting," Hermione said icily.

"You're an intelligence agent," he said blankly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, as if to say, duh. Seeing her look, Reid flushed and rushed on.

"Because of your career you don't want to draw attention to yourself. You wear clothes in neutral colors, tame your hair back and don't wear dramatic make up. You also don't wear jewelry. In social situations you minimize your personal interactions and make an effort to bled into the back ground. Besides that, you don't share personal information with anyone in an effort to retain anonymity. Because your intelligence sets you apart you mask it, but don't downplay it. Unless someone is paying attention they can't see that you're actually a genius. Today you managed to calculate the precise angle at which the SWAT sniper would have a shot in seconds and you managed to place him on a well concealed ledge. From the position where you placed him, he didn't have to worry about muzzle flash and noise trajectory giving him away. Even the rest of the team didn't realize exactly what you'd done because you didn't explain. That was deliberate, because not only do we not trust you… you don't trust us. And trust is extremely important to you."

Spencer looked dazed as he finished, staring at her but not seeing her.

Hermione decided she was done with the whole exchange and grabbed her bag from where it rested at Rossi's feet, pretending that nothing had happened. She unbuckled the side flap and slid her copy of the case report inside of it while everyone recovered from the scene.

"I guess we're all ready to go," Rossi said brightly. On cue everyone shouldered their bags and followed the senior agent out the door. Reid picked up his bag followed a few steps behind the group looking deep in thought.

On the plane Hermione picked a seat at the far end that faced away from the rest of the group. Rossi struck up a conversation with JJ about the Redskins that was obviously a ploy to cover the tension that blanketed the team. Derek settled in beside her and put on his headphones. Hermione pulled out her iPod and copied him and quickly lost herself in the musical genius that was Max Richter's re-composition of Vivaldi's Four Seasons. She tried to put what had happened with Reid out of her mind, but anger still stirred in the back of her mind.

He had no right to invade her privacy like that.

If she wanted to keep some secrets from the team, it was her prerogative. Using yoga breathing techniques she managed to calm herself down and let go of most of her anger. Perhaps there had been a message in Dr. Reid's analysis of her. If she opened up a bit more, perhaps the team would be less hostile to her. But even as the thought occurred to her she rejected it. She was here to gather intelligence on the magical crimes being committed in the Muggle world, not to make friends. Moreover, she was supposed to be working on getting back to the D.A and hunting Death Eaters. Morgan shifted beside her stretching his back and she momentarily considered their odd relationship. They were friends, right?

Needing something more occupying than music to distract her, Hermione pulled out her ear buds and dug in her purse for the Jodi Picoult novel she was half finished with. She tried to focus on the words but found she was too preoccupied.

"Is the book really that bad?" Derek teased her.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking up. She'd been internally debating the pros and cons of being more open with the team.

"You're scowling at it. Personally I've always been more of a Kurt Vonnegut fan."

"I love his work," Hermione replied, folding her book shut.

"Jodi Picoult is a bit grim for my tastes," Morgan commented looking at the front cover of her novel.

"And to mine at the moment," Hermione agreed.

"So what's your IQ?"

She gave him a look. "Come on," Derek begged. "I just watched you pass a super intense genius challenge. You rattled off numbers without so much as a pause, it was like you didn't even have to think. Tell me or I'll make Penelope look it up."

Penelope would never find anything because those records had been buried, but Hermione answered anyways.

"176 the last time I sat for a test two years ago."

"Damn. I hope Spence doesn't get jealous."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He has no need to. I have bachelor's degrees in Physics, and English Literature and a masters in Finance. I graduated from Law school three years ago."

"Well, there's a little overlap. Reid's mom was a literature professor and he has several degrees in chemistry which can be similar to physics. As for law school, with his memory it's kind of pointless."

"Am I wrong to be worried that I just made an enemy?" Hermione asked seriously.

"Not really. Reid doesn't like change and he doesn't like feeling out of control. But it might help if you were a little less reserved."

Hermione groaned. "That's what I was afraid of."

"Oh come on, be more social- it's easy. It's like playing twenty questions. We can practice, I'll ask the questions and we both have to answer."

"I reserve the right to not answer any questions I don't like," Hermione put in.

Morgan made a face. "That's no fun, but fine."

He stopped for minute stroking his goatee and thinking. Hermione began to get a bit nervous.

"Would you rather go to the theater or the movies?"

"I'd prefer the movies," Hermione replied.

"Same," Morgan agreed. "Would you rather visit Europe or Mexico?"

"I'd rather visit Europe because Mexico is over run with cartels."

"Mexico," Derek said. "They have beaches."

Hermione snorted. "Europe has excellent beaches."

"Defending your own country, are we?"

"Defending southern France is more like it," Hermione said. "My mother was French. I spent several summers there and I learned to speak French from my grandmother."

"See? You're opening up already," Morgan said, moving on to his next question. "Facebook or Twitter?"

"Neither. I can't have any photos on the Internet."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Alright. If you could change one thing you've done what would it be?"

Hermione was silent, staring off into space as she thought. She twined her fingers together. "I wouldn't have judged my own worth based off of my test scores and grades for so many years. There was a time when being at the top of my class meant more to me than almost anything. In retrospect that wasn't such a healthy attitude. Your turn."

"I would have learned to speak up earlier and not keep secrets that weren't good for me."

Hermione digested this and nodded, looking as if she could relate.

"Okay last question," Morgan said. "How would your friends describe you?"

"Bookworm. Know it all." She grinned. "Temperamental."

"Really? Temperamental? I don't see it."

"My closest friends are two men. They don't get it when my hair won't cooperate and it makes me irritable. They think my eyelash curler is a deadly weapon even though I've shown them how it works a dozen times. I threw a funeral for my cat and I forced them to attend, which they found very uncomfortable."

Morgan laughed, and then winked. "I'd have happily gone to your cat's funeral."

"I appreciate that. You're a good friend."

The statement felt right, and Hermione had to wonder if she wasn't beginning to see this assignment as more than a punishment.

* * *

When the plane landed Hermione went back to her office to collect some files she wanted to review. The team had a three-day weekend because of the amount of hours they'd put in on the case but she didn't want to get behind on her work. She selected her files and was just about to turn off her lamp when a knock took her by surprise. In her doorway, Spencer Reid stood, looking distinctly uncomfortable. His hair was disheveled as was his clothing. Nervously he ran a hand through his thin hair. Then he met her eyes and squared his thin shoulders.

"I apologize for confronting you so rudely," He said directly.

Hermione nodded motioning for him to come in. She took a seat at her office chair while Dr. Reid settled himself across from her in one of the guest chairs.

"Thank you. I realize that having an unknown person dropped into such a close knit team was disconcerting, so I won't hold it against you."

"Why were you? Dropped into the team, I mean," Reid elaborated.

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to be honest with him, but the greater part rejected the idea of blowing her cover. "It was decided by my superiors that I would be of best use here. I think you could say that I'm looking for terrorists and other unconventional threats."

Spencer raised an eyebrow at her measured wording. He noted that she didn't come out and state her business in the BAU plainly, but insinuated what her role was. He filed the incident away in his mind for further review.

"Wouldn't that be better done in the counter terrorism unit or the joint terrorism task force?" Reid asked.

"Counter terrorism is focused on the threats we know about. I'm not here to look for those."

"Are you learning profiling?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm supposed to assimilate what I can while in this position."

"Then why haven't you taken the classes?"

"That's not my main role here. You already know that Cruz placed me on the team. What you don't know is that it came from above even his pay grade."

"Who placed you in the team?"

"I can't say. But somebody in your government and in mine has decided that this is where I should be. So far, my particular skill set hasn't been needed."

"And what skill set would that be?"

"That's none of your concern right now."

"If you're on my team it is." Spencer glared at her, his eyes fiery.

"I'm not approved to tell you. I'll hazard a guess that you've had Agent Garcia look into me?"

"She was expressly ordered not to by none other than the director of the FBI."

Hermione resisted the urge to smile with great effort.

Spencer continued. "You don't really belong here; I don't say that to offend you, but it's true. Besides, you don't even want to be in the FBI. You're more of the kicking down doors type than the analyzing type."

She was unable to stop herself from raising an eyebrow at that. Hermione Granger was an academic to the core and if Spencer Reid didn't realize it she would have to severely doubt his talents at reading people. "I dislike kicking down doors, Dr. Reid. I far prefer a well-placed charge that blows them clear and unnerves the inhabitants so that I can use their surprise against them. The reason I know that is _because_ I'm the analytical type. I did the research to find a better method after I lost too many men kicking down doors."

Squeezing his eyes closed Reid rubbed the bridge of his nose furiously. "This isn't going the way I planned. I'm usually much more non-confrontational than this."

"I unsettle you," Hermione observed.

"Yes. You're not who you seem to be. What is your IQ anyways?"

That was the question of the day, wasn't it?

"176 at my last testing two years ago. You could say that I was recruited to the military because of that as well as other factors."

The genius across the desk from her looked surprised. "You just volunteered information about yourself. You never do that."

"Morgan spoke to me about being more open with the team. We played twenty questions and I ended up telling him about the funeral I gave my cat."

"Yeah," Spencer said, as a smile twitched on his lips. "Derek can have that effect on people."

The doctor shifted nervously in his chair as they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"Look, Dr. Reid, I don't want to be your enemy. What can I tell you about myself that would make you more comfortable around me? I know it isn't my competence in the field, because I more than meet the requirements of the FBI. You know that I shot a man off of a roof from a hundred yards in the dark and still managed to keep him alive for questioning. You also know that I can track a fugitive in extreme conditions and that I have above average fitness. Or as you put it, I'm the kicking down doors type. Is there something about me that makes you not trust me to have your back? What is it?"

"Are you informing on the team?"

"Sorry," Hermione asked, shocked.

"Are you gathering information on us for Agent Cruz? Or the director or, heck, maybe even congress!"

"No," Hermione said flatly. "I have no allegiance to your country or your agency. Furthermore, I've never been a Bravo Foxtrot."

"A what?"

"Bravo Foxtrot. It's military slang for…."

"Someone who screws over their friends. I'm familiar."

"I'll be honest and tell you that I'm insulted by the implication. I've had my share of team members try to screw me over. Someone who was supposedly on my side almost killed me once," Hermione continued, thinking of Marietta Edgecombe's betrayal. "Actually that's happened more than once, I guess. Zacharias Smith. He was a thorn in my side if there ever was one. But my point is that I don't have bad intentions towards your team. You are aware that the BAU is considered part of the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime right?"

He nodded, frowning.

"And as such its role is to support multi-agency coordination, threat assessment and threat management?"

"Of course. I've worked here for over a decade."

"I'm part of the multi-agency coordination part of your mission statement. The majority of my job revolves around assessing and managing a threat that the governments of North America and Europe would like to see contained. Because of the speed and regularity with which your team operates, being on it gives me a good view of the criminal situation in this area. Have you noticed a spike in crime recently, Dr. Reid?"

"Well, yes, crime has gone up seventeen percent in the last five years which is an unprecedented rise because it was projected to go down. Wait a minute, are you telling me you know something about that?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to tell me about it are you," Spencer said, looking frustrated.

"I'm not going to, your government isn't going to and neither is my government. But we're working to contain the situation and remove the threats."

"How serious is this threat? How are they controlling the crime rate?"

"Influencing the crime rate," Hermione corrected. "We've gone to a lot of trouble to remove the majority of the organization's teeth. But it seems to be getting worse here in the States because of the crackdown in Europe. I'm supposed to integrate into your law enforcement and study the threat level. If I need to I'm allowed to step in and handle it."

"Is it a terrorist organization?"

"Yes, but a fairly nontraditional one that's flown under the radar for a long time now. This isn't something you'll hear about on the evening news. My presence here is an effort to combat this group."

"You don't think it's a useful effort do you?"

Hermione was taken off guard by his impressively accurate statement. Meeting Spencer's hazel eyes she realized that she owed him the truth.

"I feel that it would have been better to place me in another department."

Specifically, the department of American Aurors where she wouldn't have to hide her abilities and would have been her own boss. Having to answer to a commanding officer that knew nothing about her abilities was obstructive to her effectiveness. And besides it grated on her when she was used to being the one calling the shots.

"I'm sorry that you didn't get your way. But I can see that you'll be an asset to the team."

"Well that's quite the turnaround from telling me I don't belong here and I seem like I kick down doors."

"Now that I know you're not a lackey for the Unit Chief, I've come around a bit," He said.

"The last few weeks would have been a lot smoother if you'd asked me directly."

"It's not good manners to ask someone if they're an informant," Spencer protested.

"True enough," Hermione agreed. "But in the future you can ask me what you want to know directly. You have a right to know my intentions, just not the classified ones."

"You know if I can ever help you with anything, all you have to do is ask. One genius to another."

Hermione grinned and the tension between the two melted away.

"So the team is big enough for two geniuses?"

"Of course. Our combined IQ is over 350. The only problem is that if anyone gets away on our watch, we'll be laughing stocks."

"I'll have to keep it in mind," Hermione agreed.

"So what are your degrees in?" Spencer asked her.

"My bachelor's degrees are in Physics and English Literature. I have a masters in Finance and I graduated from Law school a few years ago."

"Not bad," Spencer said, looking at her with admiration. "How long did it take you?"

"I did them at the same time I was in the military, so it took me eight years between the two bachelors and my masters. I was working full time as a soldier and going to school part time. At first I only went because it was important to my parents. Then I kept going because it interested me and ended up in law school which took me three years. I had to stop and start again because I got deployed."

"You didn't have a degree when you went into the military?"

"I was recruited out of high school. It mattered more what they could train me to do than what I knew."

"Interesting," Spencer said. "Would you happen to play chess, Captain Granger?"

"I love chess," Hermione told him.

"In that case, this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

 **Please leave me a review and let me know what you think so far. I'm considering making my next one shot about Garcia. For some reason I don't get the sense that she'd quietly go along with the FBI director's order.**


	3. Chapter 3: Princess

**A/N: I just wanted to let all of my readers know that I'm returning to college on the 19th, so my writing is probably going to slow down. I'm having a blast writing these one shots, so I hope to keep going, but at a slower pace. My ideas are still flowing though, and thank you to all of my readers who have submitted ideas. Alice.1985, you're the best! Enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds. I don't own Harry Potter. I wish I did, because then I wouldn't need a student loan.**

* * *

So much for her long and relaxing weekend, Hermione thought to herself. She picked up her thermos and chugged down lukewarm coffee, grimacing at the foul taste.

What was it about coffee that made it taste like ambrosia warm and cough syrup cold?

After a very long weekend all Hermione wanted to do was get this unpleasant task over with and get some sleep. She steeled herself for what she was about to do, knowing it would be unpleasant.

Three days ago she'd ended up in some very hot water over the actions of Penelope Garcia. At eleven thirty on Friday she'd been summoned to the British Magical Embassy to get yelled at by the Ambassadors. Both of them, the magical ambassador Nigel Westcott, and Steven Waters, the muggle ambassador. After and incredibly longwinded lecture over something that wasn't exactly her fault, Hermione had been roped into clean up. The Muggle government had requisitioned her help in securing about half of their assets who had been compromised by a serious cybersecurity breach that same day. Ambassador Westcott had decided that she was duty bound to fix this problem for the muggles since it had been, indirectly, her fault. This was how she'd ended up going to twelve different countries over the past three days. All the travel had left Hermione completely drained.

Apparently, handling Garcia had been her responsibility in the first place. At least that was how the Ambassadors saw it, and they'd been more than willing to tell her how disappointed they were in her. The words "mismanagement" and "negligent" had been tossed around quite a lot in their allocution. Hermione scowled. How had she been expected to stop Penelope? Hex her into submission?

Penelope Garcia was going to die.

On Friday afternoon at 3:17 p.m. there had been a massive breech of the British Army's central database. That attack had been traced back to the computer of one Miss Penelope Garcia. More concerning to the muggle authorities was the fact it had originated from an FBI wireless network. The breech had quickly been contained when her name was searched within the database, triggering an automatic response. Garcia had been booted from the system and an alert was sent out to the magical government in London and the British Embassy.

Another hacker had piggy backed onto Garcia's hack. This less skilled individual had extended his own access for a considerable amount of time after Garcia's search of Hermione's name had expelled her from the system. He'd dug into the personnel records of MI6 agents scattered abroad, building quite the list of names for himself. Garcia's hack had been easily identified, but it had masked the second breach quite well. It wasn't until hours later that they'd realized what had occurred and the potential consequences of it. When they had, Hermione had been their first call.

For the past three days she'd worked nonstop to pull in agents from all over the world. After bringing them back to London she'd modified their memories and implanted false information about how they'd gotten home. All that apparating had left her numb. Now as she sat in her car outside of Penelope's apartment waiting for a reasonable hour to go knock on her door, sensation was finally coming back. An unpleasant tingling sensation worked its way through her entire body.

Finally, the minute hand on her watch ticked to seven. Hermione decided it was confrontation time. Pulling in several calming breaths in preparation she reminded herself that she couldn't be overly harsh. Garcia had been trying to protect her friends. At the core of that woman was a fierce protector and it was a quality Hermione could admire. Though, when it ruined her three-day weekend and got her dragged around the world, she found it a whole lot less attractive.

As she climbed the stairs to the technical analyst's apartment, Hermione reigned in her anger. Antagonism wouldn't get her anywhere. She needed to get through to Penelope that her actions had hurt people and influence her into not digging into anymore databases for the sake of Britain's national security.

Her knock was answered quickly by a tall man with brown hair and brown eyes. He flashed a friendly smile. "Hi there, can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Penelope Garcia," Hermione said.

"Oh, come in, you must be one of her coworkers. I'm Sam, make yourself and home, I'll go-" He turned. "Never mind, here she is. Penelope, one of your FBI friends is here."

"Is it JJ? I was going to meet her for coffee." The blonde head of Agent Garcia poked around the door.

Her expression went from surprise to fear to defiance in the space of three seconds.

"I regret nothing!"

Hermione shut her eyes and counted to five. _Anger will get you nowhere. Anger will get you nowhere._ She repeated the mantra to herself, the litany serving as her last thread of control.

"I need to speak with you," She said calmly. Her eyes shot to the man. His eyes darted between the women with interest. "Alone," the witch added.

There was an awkward silence for a moment as Penelope did her best to stare down Hermione. The analyst's feet were planted, her arms folded resolutely over her chest and her chin was raised. An urge to scream rose in Hermione's chest and she chalked it up to sleep deprivation. It was obvious that this wasn't going to be easy.

"Oh, right, alone," Sam said suddenly. "I'll just go in to work then. Have a good day, honey pot."

Turning he grabbed his coat from the rack behind him and gathered his brief case. "Nice to meet you, ah, what was your name?"

"Captain Hermione Granger."

His face changed, as Hermione had expected it to. Well then. Miss Garcia had been bringing her work home with her. The horrified expression on the boyfriend's face was as though he'd just met Hitler in the flesh and been informed they were brothers.

"I'll just be going now," He stammered and raced past her in his haste to get away.

Hermione watched him go with amusement before she turned back to Garcia. Considering Sam's earlier invitation still valid, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

"You already know why I'm here," she said plainly.

"Yes I do. And I'll have you know that anything I do, I do to protect my team, which is my family. You can arrest me or kill me or torture me but I'll never regret anything I've done."

"I don't torture people. Ever. Under any circumstances," Hermione snapped, her eyes flashing. "I don't appreciate the insinuation that I would either."

Penelope had the decency to look somewhat abashed, but refused to back down.

"I needed to know if you were a plant."

"Did Spencer share with you the conversation he and I had last Friday?"

"Yes, on Saturday after I'd already done the search. I'm not sure I believe you though. I need proof before I can be expected to trust you."

"You're not being held responsible for a massive amount of damage. You're not in prison for treason and for breaking a half a dozen international laws. That should make you trust me."

"Treason? What do you mean treason?" Penelope exclaimed. "I didn't even access anything. Your name tripped a security protocol that threw me out of the system."

"I mean that another hacker piggy backed your worm. I assume I don't need to inform you that, legally, you're responsible for granting him access and considered complicit in his all of his actions. He avoided the system shut down that my name initiated and used the hole you created to access the identities of intelligence assets all over the world. I've been awake for the last seventy-two hours helping safely bring them in. We had to black out our entire communications system. As a result, we ended up losing contact with troops on the ground in Afghanistan, who were in the middle of a firefight. Over the last three days I've been in six countries and dragged over three continents. I've been shot at by a group of very hostile eastern European rebels and had to bribe several of the slimiest politicians this world has to offer. So, yes, Penelope. Treason."

The blonde woman had gone paler and paler as Hermione spoke. Tears welled in her eyes and she looked scared. She tried to form words but none came out.

"I…. I…. I didn't mean for any of that to happen!"

"I know. But it did."

Garcia swayed on her feet, looking like she'd been struck.

"Sit down before you fall down," Hermione ordered, unable to stand it anymore. The woman looked like death she was so white.

She then lead the agent over to the couch and gently pushed her down so that she was sitting. From there she went to the adjoining kitchen where she was pleasantly surprised to find a kettle on the stove top.

"Where do you keep your tea?" Hermione asked Penelope as she filled the kettle.

"Did anyone die? I don't think I could live with that. Oh, no, no! What about those soldiers? Are they okay? Was anyone hurt?" Garcia was nearly hysterical as her mind grasped the consequences of what she'd done.

"No one died! We contacted the Americans who were able to establish a new line of communication within a few minutes. From what I heard they were all okay, aside from minor injuries that were probably inevitable. And I can personally vouch for the fact that we've gotten all of the agents in. Ah-ha, here's your tea!" Hermione exclaimed in victory as she opened the last cabinet. "Why do you keep it with your drinking glasses?"

"It's easier to reach there," Penelope said distractedly. "But if you don't have any spies out there doing spy things how are you keeping your country safe?"

"Honestly? Right now we're scrambling and hoping for the best. Some agents will have to be burned."

"Burned?! Like on the TV show Burn Notice?" Penelope sprang up from the couch and whirled on Hermione. "You can't do that!"

"Relax! We're not dropping anyone off in a rundown Miami motel to fend for themselves. They'll move to desk jobs or be phased out."

"I've ruined careers," Penelope stated. She looked a bit sick and Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for her, despite what she'd done.

Hermione refused to lie. "Yeah."

The tea kettle whistled just then and Hermione moved it off of the burner. From the cabinet she gathered two mugs and made up their mugs with the tea she'd found. Picking them both up in one hand she used the other to carry the sugar over to Penelope. She took a seat on the couch next to the shaken agent.

"Drink," she ordered.

Penelope ignored her and hugged the throw pillow she was holding tighter. "Why aren't I in jail? Or in a very deep hole where I deserve to be?"

"You made an honest mistake Penelope, and it was made with the best of intentions. I can understand that."

"You didn't answer the question," Garcia said. A look of comprehension dawned over her face suddenly. "Oh! You're here to arrest me, aren't you?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I pretty much put the tattered remains of my career on the line by pulling in every political favor I'm owed, so that you won't go to jail."

Penelope looked taken aback. "Why? Why would you do that for me? I deserve to go to prison for what I did, for the people I hurt."

"Because the team couldn't function without you. Because at the end of the day I knew you didn't intend for any of this to happen. It truly was an accident. And also because, as so many people in the last three days have pointed out, this is partially my fault."

"What?"

"I should have provided a better cover for myself. Instead I let my bosses spring me on you. I should have made a backstory and provided you with misinformation, to prevent you from digging. But I don't do undercover work so I just walked into this the way I would anything else. That rubbed a lot of people in the BAU the wrong way."

"I'd have searched you anyway," Penelope said, discarding the pillow and picking up her mug. "It's just what I do. Besides the director called me into his office to tell me that I wasn't supposed to check up on you. That's like dangling cheese in front of a mouse."

Hermione shrugged. Exhaustion pulled her eyelids down and she felt herself beginning to doze off against her will.

"You look like death warmed over," Garcia said. "You really went to six countries and were shot at?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. I don't know if it matters, but I'm really, really, sorry."

"It's over and done. We'll move on," Hermione said with a sigh. She took a sip of her tea to try and keep herself awake as a silence lapsed between her and Garcia.

A knock sounded at the door and neither of them moved. Hermione was dead tired and Penelope was so lost in thought she didn't hear it. It sounded again, more insistently. At this Garcia looked up.

She moved to the door and swung it open without even looking through the peep hole. Hermione tensed, unconsciously, and anxiety buzzed in her veins.

"Morgan!" Penelope exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Sam called me. What's going on?"

Without waiting for an invitation, Derek entered the apartment. His eyes shot straight to Hermione and he arched an eyebrow. "You look like you got hit by a truck."

"Thank you. I live for compliments."

"You still have that dry humor going on, so I guess you'll be alright." He winked before becoming serious. "What's all this? Why've you been crying, baby girl?"

"I did a really, really bad thing and I almost got a lot of people killed and I ruined a bunch of a careers."

Morgan jerked back, looking dismayed and concerned. "What happened?"

"Penelope," Hermione said warningly. "You should probably keep this quiet."

"I'm her best friend and I want to know," Morgan said firmly.

"You'd be duty bound to arrest her," Hermione argued. "And I worked very hard to make sure that didn't happen."

"Really? She hates your guts."

"Not anymore," Penelope broke in. "Especially since I'd be in jail right now for treason without her!"

"Treason!"

"Penelope!"

Hermione and Derek both exploded at the same time.

"Talk, both of you."

"And unravel all the work I've done?" Hermione demanded. "Not happening."

Penelope was less restrained and recounted the whole thing back to the man, quite theatrically. She managed to repeat the part about the soldiers a total of three times over the course of the conversation. Hermione leaned her head back on the couch and shut her eyes, allowing the conversation to wash over her. Sleep sounded heavenly right about now.

"Hey, are you okay?" Morgan jostled her shoulder and she cracked open her eye to see him standing over her. Had she drifted off?

"I'm fine," she said automatically.

"Liar. Penelope tells me you've been awake for three days and that you traveled nonstop during them. How much coffee did you drink?"

"All of it," Hermione told him, closing her eyes again.

"I am so sorry," Penelope apologized.

"It's fixed," Hermione replied wearily. "No harm done."

Derek made a derisive noise in his throat. He sent a dark look to Penelope. "Do you know what a risk you took? I could have lost you forever. Sam could have lost you. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that she was a plant. Spencer says she's not, but how can we be sure if we don't check?"

"By trusting me, because I'm apparently going to be here for a while."

Both of them faced her, their attention captured. "What's that supposed to mean," Derek asked.

"I spent all of my political capital on buying Penelope a get out of jail free card. Literally. So now I'd better settle in for the long haul because I'm not getting back to my previous job anytime soon."

"You consider working with us a punishment?" The technical analyst exploded. "We are so not a punishment!"

"I didn't mean it that way. I just mean that I'm a soldier, not a cop. This isn't exactly what a prime assignment looks for someone in my profession. Besides I'm basically babysitting a situation and advising the government on what to do about it. I'm so far out of the action, I'm not even on the sidelines. I'm practically up in the announcer's booth, reporting on the game."

The duo looked shocked.

"Oh," Penelope said.

Morgan looked upset, but said nothing. "Come on," He announced after a moment. "You're going home and going to sleep. I'll call Hotch and explain."

"Relax, my commanding officer already took care of it. He told him that I'm attending a briefing. It probably goes without saying," Hermione said as she stood from the couch. "That we don't mention this to him. The fewer people who know about this, the better off we all are."

"Alright," Morgan agreed, somewhat reluctantly. He caught her arm when she stumbled, tripping over her own feet. The sleep deprivation and travel were really beginning to settle in. When they got to the door, Morgan paused and turned back to Garcia. "Baby girl, don't think we aren't done talking about this. I'm coming over tonight."

Penelope nodded meekly and opened the door for them as Morgan ushered Hermione out.

"Wait," she stopped them. "Hermione, I just wanted to say I'm sorry I caused so much trouble for you personally. I regret what I did and if I could go back I wouldn't have done it like I did. Thank you for saving me. And also, thank you for _not_ inventing a cover and lying to us. I'm glad that you're being honest with us, at least as much as you can. I trust you now. You've earned it."

"How do you know I'm not a plant," Hermione asked her. Though sluggish, her mind hadn't missed that Penelope's primary concern was still dangling between them.

"I lied earlier. I trust Reid and he believes you, so I believe you. Besides I made him recount your entire conversation for me, verbatim. That eidetic memory is handy sometimes."

"Just don't hack anymore databases, okay? I can only do so much."

"Really? Because I kind of get a Sarah Conner/Natasha Romanoff vibe from you that's super kick ass."

Hermione laughed, and let Morgan lead her away.

They ended up in his truck, sitting in morning rush hour traffic on the way to her apartment. Hermione propped up her head and shut her eyes, but didn't go to sleep. Morgan's fingers drummed a nervous beat on the steering wheel.

"Spill it, Derek."

"Spill what?" He asked blankly.

"Whatever's making you tap out the beat to Staying Alive on the steering wheel."

"I was tapping the beat to Another One Bites the Dust."

"Whatever."

There was a tense silence and he inched the car forward another two feet before asking. "Are the soldiers really okay? You didn't lie to make her feel better?"

Hermione opened her eyes. "I wouldn't lie about something that important."

Morgan's shoulders relaxed. "Good." He shook his head. "Penelope always means well but she can cross certain lines. I hope this doesn't affect how you see her. She isn't a criminal, she just gets carried away and doesn't always look before she leaps."

"I know some people like that," Hermione said, thinking of Ron. "Sometimes having too much heart can come back and bite you."

"Thank you for what you did," Derek told her quietly.

It took them eons to get out of D.C. traffic, but when they finally did, the rest of the journey to her apartment was fairly quick. They stopped in front of her building and Morgan got out to walk her in. He held the door open for her as they walked into the lobby and as they walked up the stairs he stayed a step behind her. Hermione noted that he was making sure if she stumbled again, he could catch her. It was sweet, especially because nobody had done something like that for her in a long time.

At her apartment door, she dug into her pocket for her keys and opened the door, which he followed her through. Inside he spun in a slow circle in the middle of her living room, taking it all in. The apartment was spacious, decorated traditionally and filled with natural light from the bank of east facing windows.

"Nice place. It's shockingly normal," he said when he finished surveying his surroundings.

"What were you expecting? A lair?"

"Kind of, you give off the secret agent vibe. Penelope's been calling you Jacey Bourne, like the Robert Ludlum character."

"Cute. I kind of hope it sticks."

Morgan shook his head, grinning, and then sobered. He looked her up and down with worry in his eyes.

"Are you okay? And don't give me any pat answers. Your 'I'm fine' sounds too way too programmed."

Hermione groaned and ran a hand through her tangled curls. By now they were surely frizzy and bush like. "I'll be human again after twelve hours of sleep and a shower. The past few days have been pretty rough. I just hope Penelope will be okay. She took it pretty hard, so make sure her guilt doesn't make her spontaneously confess to Hotch. If I called in every single marker I held for her to ruin it all I'm going to go on a rampage."

"I'll keep her in line. That girl would not fare well in prison. And again, thank you, for doing all of that. I second what Penelope said. You've really earned my trust. Also, you're about to fall asleep on your feet, so I'm going to run."

"Bye Morgan," Hermione called after Derek as he crossed the threshold to the hall.

"Sleep tight, Princess!" He retorted. Her lips twitched.

Apparently she had her own nickname now.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	4. Chapter 4: Rossi's Bad Date

**A/N: I have been asked by multiple reviewers what Harry's role in this story is and why he's on the character list. Harry is a recurring character, the same way Hotch is. I did include him in earlier versions of other chapters, but he was edited out of all of them. I know this bothered some people, but it is what it is. I apologize if you clicked on this story for Harry and didn't find him, but he remains on the list because I think he needs to be there. - Kelly**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any part of either of these franchises.**

* * *

 _This is not happening to me_ , Hermione thought to herself.

She washed her hands in the restaurant's porcelain sink a second time, running the cool water over her wrists. Usually that helped her calm down. Right now it had no effect at all. How could her parents do this to her? In retrospect, she should have been more clear about what had happened between her and Harry. She hadn't wanted to talk about it at the time, so she'd merely told her mother that she and Harry "had hit a rough patch," and not gone into further detail.

Leave it to her mother, ever the peacemaker, to try and make things right.

Her parents were on a layover for the day visiting her before they continued on to California, where her father had a tee time at Pebble Beach. They'd arranged dinner with her at a local French restaurant and she'd been thrilled. Since the war she'd been working to make erasing their memories up to them. Her father was the toughest nut to crack. As a former military man he took protecting his family very seriously, especially his only daughter. The divide went deeper than that, though, and Hermione knew she'd broken in his trust in a serious manner. They'd been quite close once, but that had morphed into a tense and strained relationship that barely managed to endure. Fortunately for both of them, they had her mother to run interference. But her mother's meddling could be a dangerous thing, Hermione decided as she shut off the tap. If the water hadn't worked by now it wouldn't.

Upon their arrival this afternoon, Linda Granger had decided to give Harry a call.

From their conversation she'd found out that Harry was in town working on an extradition treaty with the U.S. He'd been on a break from hammering out details of deporting Death Eaters to face military justice with local authorities when he'd gotten her call. Unaware that she was in town, he'd mentioned his location and his business. Linda had promptly invited him to dinner and one did not say no to Linda Granger. He'd tried his best to back out, but it was futile. This was how Hermione had ended up sitting next to her ex-best friend at the dinner table. The Grangers had no idea what was going on between them. Also Hermione's Dad was extremely stiff towards her, which let her know that in the seven years since she'd cleared his memory, he hadn't forgiven or forgotten.

Bracing herself, Hermione left the washroom. It was time to face the music. Dinner would only last a couple hours she reminded herself.

"There you are," Hermione's mother said warmly. "Harry was just telling us about his trip to China, isn't that exciting?"

"Yes, I didn't know he'd been," Hermione replied. Wizarding China had one of the biggest militaries in the magical world so she could guess about what he'd been doing there.

"I got back to London on Monday and turned around and came here on Tuesday," Harry said smoothly. He turned to her. "I hear you're settling in well at the FBI."

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances," She said pointedly, giving him a sugary smile.

Harry had no reaction other than a subtle tick in his jaw.

He'd become a different person in the past few years. Dealing with Death Eaters day in and day out hadn't been good for him. Somewhere along the line Harry had developed an almost unhealthy dedication to doing what was necessary. He'd undergone several painful healing spells to correct his vision and no longer needed glasses. Once during a mission he'd had his frames knocked off of his face and had missed a shot. Because of this the Death Eater lieutenant Devon Machar had lived, and Harry had immediately blamed himself. It was two days later that he'd undergone procedures to fix his eyes. Hermione missed the old Harry with the bottle cap glasses and hopeful disposition. This new, colder version of him felt like a stranger sometimes.

"So, Ethan, how did you manage to score a tee time at Pebble Beach," Harry addressed her father, breaking the tension.

Her father lit up, always excited to talk about golf. Setting back in her chair Hermione resigned herself to a long evening.

* * *

David Rossi was on a date with the most beautiful creature that he'd ever seen.

She was tall with dark hair and eyes and a beautiful French accent. Unfortunately, she also thought the Dalai Lama was actually a llama. Sometimes nature could be cruel that way, giving so much in some areas and so little in others. Currently she was rambling about how it was important to buy meat at the grocery store, where it was made, and not from farms where it was killed.

Rossi wasn't listening to a word she was saying because across the room from him, Hermione Granger was having dinner with an older couple who appeared to be her parents. Who knew Granger had parents? This meant she wasn't hatched, which had been one of Garcia's earlier theories, before she'd pretty much started the Captain Granger fan club. Something had happened between them and Rossi was dying to know what it was, but had held off on investigating so far. The team had been quite busy recently otherwise he'd have been on it like white of rice. At the other table Hermione looked supremely uncomfortable. Her date, a good-looking Army officer, bumped her arm accidentally and she went ridged at the contact. _Trouble in paradise?_ Rossi wondered. The man shot her an annoyed look before going back to his meal. Dave was fascinated by their interaction.

He liked Hermione Granger quite a bit.

She was a caring person, extremely smart and over all, a fantastic edition to their team. He realized that her arrival had ticked off Hotch and therefore the team, but didn't hold it against her. After analyzing people for years, he'd realized that Granger had been equally uncomfortable. She'd slowly begun to settle in with the team during the past month, forming close friendships with Morgan and Spencer. Additionally, Garcia had begun worshiping the ground she walked on about two weeks ago.

His eyes darted back to his date when she asked him a question and he was forced to answer.

Hermione felt eyes on her. Next to her Harry felt them too, but kept his conversation with her father going. Discreetly glancing around Hermione searched for the source. On her second pass of the room she realized that David Rossi was sitting thirty feet away at her eight o clock. Of course. Now she'd have to explain this at work. Mentally she ran through her possible explanations. She was so focused on compiling her list that Harry had to tap her on the arm twice before she noticed him.

"Can we have a word in private," Harry requested coolly.

Hermione nodded, feeling his frustration. Dinner had not been a pleasant affair and her parents were definitely sensing it. She'd said little and had tried to hold in her anger while Harry made meaningless small talk to smooth things over. Ethan and Linda were studying them as if they were specimens under a microscope. She'd be hearing about this later. Her bottled up anger was beginning to boil over inside of her, having been tamped down for too long. Harry crashing dinner with her parents was her last straw. _He could have warned me,_ she thought wrathfully.

Harry took her arm, leading her outside. Hermione noted that from this angle Rossi had a great view of them through the restaurant's plate glass window. And of course, he was watching closely.

"I apologize," Harry said, taking her off guard. She recovered quickly focusing on him and forgetting about her nosy Italian teammate.

"For what? Sending me to the U.S? Ruining my career? Taking me out of the action?"

"All of it, and at the same time, none of it."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Thank you, that's very sincere and eloquent." Sarcasm dripped from her every word.

"I need to explain," Harry interrupted, catching her by the elbow when she tried to walk away.

He took a sharp breath and then took both of her hands in his, grasping them tightly. Solemnly he met her eyes. "Look, Hermione, you know that I owe you much of my success. Maybe I owe it all to you. I know one thing for sure though, and that's that I can't live without you. You're my best friend and the one person I trust with no reservations."

"Harry," Hermione protested. "Ron…"

"Ron left me in the middle of the woods and some part of me will never forget that, even if I can forgive it," Harry said. "I don't have any family, not really. The Weasleys are great, but you're the one who was always there for me, no matter what. I can't live without you, so I sent you away, to a place the Death Eaters would never think to look for you. That bounty on your head makes you a walking dead woman in our war torn country. Even non Death Eaters are gunning for you, just for the money. If you died, I'd be alone. I wouldn't be able to trust anyone."

Harry dropped her hands and clasped his hands over her shoulders. "I had to do this. I'm sorry that you're angry with me. I hope you can forgive me and realize that my intentions are selfish, but important."

Hermione stared into his green eyes that shone with emotion. He was telling the truth and he looked more like his old self than he had in ages. But something felt off. Harry had never been able to lie to her.

"There's more," She accused. "What are you not saying?"

Harry sighed, and let go of her. Pacing back a few steps he scrubbed a hand over his jaw and scowled before turning back to her.

"Nothing gets by you."

Hermione didn't bother commenting.

"Our country needs a leader," Harry declared. "The Death Eater state has divided us, and not even Kingsley can fix it. I don't believe the next Prime Minister will either. At some point, this situation is going to come to a head, and we'll need someone who can get us through that fight." He looked at her seriously. "You know I'm right, Hermione."

"I agree," She told him. "But this has nothing to do with sending me to the FBI."

"That has everything to do with sending you to the FBI. People are suspicious of me. They glorified me as a hero for a while, but as soon as I started the military it all came back. Rita Skeeter still runs articles insisting I'm planning to over throw the government by force and make myself dictator. The western Magical world isn't like China and the other eastern countries; they aren't used to having militaries. By putting myself in control of an army I've lost all hope of ever becoming Prime Minister. Not that I was ever interested in the job in the first place," Harry added.

"I didn't think you were," Hermione said dryly. "Too much diplomacy."

Harry grinned. "True. On the first day I'd have probably started a war."

"Give yourself some credit. You'd have started three in the first hour."

"What I'm trying to say is that our country needs a leader that is experienced in war. At the same time, it needs someone who can cross boundaries, show people that equality is important and that freedom from fear and oppression is our greatest pursuit. That person is you."

Blood rushed in Hermione's ears. Her mind spun. Harry was still talking.

"I sent you here so that you'd have the opportunity to distance yourself from my political problems. I'm trying to set you up with a clean slate in the public. I'm sure that-"

Harry didn't get the chance to finish his sentence because Hermione's open palm made contact with his cheek, striking him with such a force that his head snapped backwards.

"You jackass! How dare you make my decisions for me!" She exploded. "I have a right to know what's going on and you lied to me, you made me think this was my fault!"

"Hermione-"

"Don't Hermione me! If I want to be prime minister it's my decision, and certainly not one I'll make for another twenty years. Harry, I don't know if you realize this, but you're changing and not for the better. You're manipulative, cold and secretive. I'm not happy to have those qualities turned on me," She said bitterly.

Harry looked as though she'd slapped him again.

"It'll be awhile before we move past this," She told him unhappily. "Make my excuses for me inside, okay?"

Her friend nodded, a dark look settling in his eyes. "I don't regret doing what I needed to, to keep you alive."

"I know, it's everything else that's appalling. I have a right to make my own choices without your intrusion. You're not a king maker, Harry."

He turned away from her at that, his officer's coat swirling behind him.

Hermione pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders against the cool fall air and dug her keys out from her clutch. She walked across the well-lit parking lot towards her car. Out of the corner of her eye lights from another building caught her attention. The Book Nook, the sign read. Hermione realized that it was a bright coffee shop that boasted an attached book store. A combination of two of her favorite things. Hermione was still seething with anger and she realized that driving wasn't the best idea at the moment. She put away her car keys and redirected her steps to the coffee shop.

In the shop she ordered a latte and bought herself a novel. Her drink arrived promptly and she took it and her book to the corner of the store, finding a seat on a small couch. From this perspective she had a view out of the window to the parking lot, but was hidden from on lookers. She watched as her parents left the restaurant with Harry. The trio stood on the sidewalk for a minute talking and she watched them, paying particular attention to Harry while he put them in a cab.

He'd aged a great deal in the past seven years, she realized unexpectedly. There were lines on his face that had no place on a twenty-five-year-old. Her mind circled back to some of the things he'd said and she realized that he'd been thinking about reassigning her for a long time. The incident with in the South had given him an opportunity to follow through on a plan he'd formed a long time ago. Her blood boiled as she thought of his audacity.

"Want some company?"

Rossi's voice startled her and she jumped.

"I didn't mean to startle you," He said, spreading his hands in a non-threatening manner. "I wondered if needed a shoulder to cry on."

"I'm fine, seriously," Hermione said. Rossi shrugged and took the chair across from her.

"You don't seem like the kind of person to slap someone unprovoked," He told her.

"I'm not, but we all have our breaking points."

Dave smiled. "Yes, we do."

"Your curiosity is killing you," Hermione said after a few minutes of uneasy silence.

"Come on throw me a life line. Is he your boyfriend? Fiancée? Ex?"

"He's my ex best friend," Hermione said. "My parents don't know that we had a falling out. He was in town today and my parents were passing through. Since they weren't aware of the situation, well, you saw it."

"Friendships between comrades don't usually fall apart without reason. You become each other's family over there," Rossi said, looking pensive.

"You speak from experience," Hermione noted.

"Former marine, Vietnam," Rossi revealed.

"That explains a few things," She replied.

"So why'd you slap him?"

"He's a manipulative ass trying to peddle himself as a martyr."

Rossi nodded.

Hermione continued, unable to stop talking. "Have you ever had someone do something for you that they thought was helpful? But really it was downright offensive? That's what this is."

"He's your commanding officer isn't he?"

"Yeah. But we've been friends for almost fifteen years. We went to boarding school together."

"So I take it he sent you to the team?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes. And apparently it was for my own good. According to him he was trying to protect me. I could just strangle him right now."

"He sounds like a good friend actually," Rossi told her.

She narrowed her eyes. "So you're on his side?"

"I'm not that dumb. I'm just far enough away from the situation to see both sides. You feel that he's ruining your career." Hermione gave him an inquiring look. "Penelope and Derek were discussing the fact that this isn't a prime assignment for you the other day. I happened to over hear," Rossi explained.

"I hadn't intended for that to reach all the way up the chain of command," Hermione grumbled.

"I'm not offended, and Hotch doesn't know."

"Can we keep it that way?"

Agent Hotchner and Hermione still hadn't hit it off. He remained stubbornly suspicious of her and she was beginning to wonder if it was because she was foreign. The idea that she was a spy had taken root within the team early on due to her intelligence affiliations.

"I won't tell unless explicitly asked," Rossi said.

"Good enough. I don't know what to do about Harry though. He's a jerk, but he was my best friend for a long time."

"Life can be a heck a thing to happen to a person. He wasn't always a manipulative jerk I take it?"

"No. His job has really changed him over the years. I didn't realize that until tonight."

"We have to love people for who they've become sometimes if we want to keep a friendship. And if they've crossed a line, it's a friend's duty to put them back on the right path."

Hermione sighed, leaning her head on her hand. "You must have some experience with this kind of thing?"

"I'm an old man and a philosopher at heart. Hang in their kid." His eyes drifted down to her neck where Bellatrix's mark marred her skin. "You've hung in their this long after all."

Unconsciously Hermione reached down and covered the scar on her throat. Rossi's eyes drifted back to hers, a question lingering in them.

Hermione said nothing.

"I think they're closing," Rossi said finally.

Turning around Hermione noted that the barista was indeed cleaning out the pastry case. She stood and Rossi followed her. The pair left the shop and the Italian man insisted on walking her to her car.

"You know, you've been a real asset to the team and I think that you'd make a good agent someday if you wanted. If you're ever interested let me know and I'll get you into the classes, okay?"

Surprised, Hermione nodded. "Alright." She hardly knew what to say. Rossi had been by far the most welcoming of the team from the get go, but the gesture was still unexpected. He turned and began to walk away. "Why?" Hermione called after him.

He turned back to her, not pretending to misunderstand her question. "You remind me of me when I was your age."

With that, he strode away.

* * *

Rossi had intended to go back to his car, which was parked around the other side of the building. However, a lone figure caught his attention, standing at the mouth of alley behind the restaurant, leaning against the wall. The military coat was unmistakable, flapping in the wind as the man blew out cigarette smoke.

"Those things will kill you," Rossi said casually.

Harry turned, and Rossi found himself looking into the greenest eyes he'd ever seen.

"That's the plan."

 _Interesting,_ Rossi thought.

"You want one," the sable haired man asked dryly.

It had been years since Dave had a cigarette, but the potential information this man could provide was too good to pass up.

"Sure."

The tall man pulled a pack from his jacket pocket and offered it to him, so he took one and lit up. On the first drag he barely managed to avoid coughing. But by the second one, his old bad habit was flaring back to life. This had been the only thing that kept him sane during Vietnam and it had taken him a decade to quit. He'd have to stop by a pharmacy on the way home and get a nicotine patch.

"So I saw you get slapped by your girl earlier," Rossi mentioned casually, watching the officer closely.

The man's vibrant green eyes narrowed slightly and he shrugged. "She more of a friend. We had a simple disagreement."

"Must have been some kind of disagreement. The last time I got slapped like that, her lawyers served me with papers the very next day."

"Long marriage?" Harry inquired.

"Not in years, but yeah."

The man laughed. Then he took another drag from his cigarette. "If she knew I'd picked up this habit, she'd kill me with her bare hands."

"I thought you wanted to die. 'That's the point'," Rossi quoted Harry's earlier statement.

"She'd make it slow and painful. You're divorced, you know how women can be."

"True enough. Have you been in the army long?"

"I've been in for a while."

Rossi looked over the man's face carefully, noting the faint crow's feet around his eyes and the stress lines that bracketed his mouth. His eyes were tired in a world weary way that went deeper than any physical fatigue could ever cause.

"So what was your fight about," the agent asked.

"I'm a selfish, controlling bastard. She told me as much, but in more words. The problem is that she's right." Harry grimaced.

"That sure sounds like a relationship to me. You sure you're not dating her?"

"We've been friends since we were children. We served together. It's a relationship alright, just a platonic one. She's kind of like having a sister except she's not related by blood."

"You did something to piss her off, didn't you?" Rossi asked, playing up the sage old man shooting the breeze character as he puffed out smoke.

"I changed her assignment, which you well know because you're working with her, Agent Rossi."

He couldn't hide his shock. Harry grinned, looking slightly Machiavellian when his sly green eyes narrowed.

"I don't go around sprouting off about my personal life to strangers, Dave."

"Probably a good habit, Harry."

"What are you fishing for here?" The officer asked him, dropping his cigarette to the sidewalk and snuffing it out with the toe of his well shined shoe.

"Anything I can get my hands on. I happen to like solving mysteries. So, tell me did you really go to boarding school with her?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Rossi said, satisfied that the man was telling the truth. "Why did you reassign her to our team?"

"Because her life was at risk and I'd kill myself if anything happened to her that I could prevent. She'd come too close to death already."

"Something happened to her didn't it?" David probed.

"Yes. Knowing is above your security clearance, so don't bother asking. Or trying to hack in."

"Hack in?"

"Let's just say that Agent Garcia is a very lucky woman and Hermione has a soft spot for rebellion."

"Ah. So that's what the instant friendship is about," Rossi mused.

"Hermione isn't there to spy on you. She's answering to me, but her loyalty is primarily to the team. We aren't a threat to you, your group, your agency, or your country. As a matter of fact, we were invited. That's as clear as I can be."

"I'm not worried about her. You seem the more likely threat. Something about you tells me that you're the type of guy who would destroy anything in his path to get to what he needed. No matter the cost."

Harry met his gaze steadily. Then he smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile. "You have no idea. Keep that in mind, and keep my girl safe."

Rossi took a drag from the cigarette before tossing it into the ash tray on top of a nearby trashcan. "She's your only family, huh?"

"Everyone else is dead. Hermione is all I have and the only person I trust."

"You lead a sad life, Harry."

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. "So do a lot of people."

Rossi shrugged, his mind drifting to Caroline, to their miscarriage and on to the other women he'd tried to fill the void with. "I suppose so."

He offered Harry his hand. "I'll do everything in my power to keep her alive."

Harry grasped his proffered hand in a firm grip. "I can't ask for more. If you need anything, call."

He handed Dave a card and then spun on his heel walking off into the night without a word in parting. Rossi looked down, scanning the card.

Lieutenant Colonel Harry Potter, British Army. Underneath there was a phone number and no other words.

Rossi looked up towards where Potter had walked off, but he'd vanished. Glancing around the open space the agent frowned. Where had the man gone? Unable to shake a disquieted feeling he walked to his car, got in, and dialed Hotch.

"You'll never guess what just happened to me," He began before recounting the events of his night.

* * *

 **Please feed your author! Review, review, review! Who should I do next? Is it time for Hotch to accept her?**


	5. Chapter 5: Casey Austin

**A/N: My Chemistry professor canceled class tonight, freeing me up to finish editing this chapter. So, thanks to Prof. B for helping with this update! This chapter was specifically requested by the reviewers who wanted to see JJ. I hope I did her justice.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"I just turned away for a moment," the hysterical mother sobbed at JJ.

The distraught woman clutched a handful of raggedy Kleenex and rocked back and forth, keening in a low moan. It was sound Hermione had only heard when she'd listened to others being tortured. Bile flooded her mouth suddenly as her mind recalled those images. Revulsion filled her and she turned away, trying to shake off the disturbing memories.

"I understand, ma'am," JJ said, somewhat impatiently. "We need you to go over your last movements with her one more time. If you can't stay focused, a cognitive interview isn't effective. Please, work with me."

"Damn it, Carol! Pull yourself together," Her husband, Jason Austin, barked, his own patience snapping. He slunk away at JJ's sharp glance.

The team was working on a child abduction at a theme park outside of D.C. Six-year-old Casey Austin had gone missing five hours prior and the BAU had made little headway in their search. Her parents were a mess and Mrs. Austin could hardly hold it together for thirty seconds without crying. Mr. Austin wasn't much better. He alternated between harassing the team, the park security officers, and his wife. If he wasn't doing one of those three things he was pacing back and forth mumbling to himself. Hermione's nerves were wearing thin. Dealing with hysterics wasn't in her wheel house. She'd searched the grounds with Spencer but their hunt had yielded nothing. How could a first grader vanish with no trace?

Adventureland theme park had been shut down and the patrons of the park were herded to the front gate. No one had gone in or out of the park since the girl had first been reported missing. All of the evidence said that the girl was still inside, but where? And most importantly, with whom? Her pessimism was getting her nowhere, so she refocused on Mrs. Austin.

She was crying again and JJ was doing her best to console the frantic mother.

"I'm a mother too," she said. "I know that you'd do anything for your child."

"I would, I would!" Carol sobbed. "I just want my baby back."

"Then help us," JJ begged.

"I'm trying!" Carol shrieked. She slammed her hands down on the metal top of the cafeteria table in an uncharacteristic show of violence. "Why aren't the two of you out there searching for her. She's still in here and you all know it! How big is this park anyways? Why can't you just _find her?_ "

"We need you to tell us about the last minutes you spent with her!" JJ exclaimed, losing her patience.

As soon as the blond woman said the words, Hermione could see that she regretted them. Mrs. Austin dissolved into tears, throwing herself down on the table and bawling. JJ looked at Hermione helplessly.

"I don't know what to do," she said so that only Hermione could hear. "I'm not getting anywhere with her no matter what I do. Will you sit with her while I call Penelope back and cool off?"

"Sure," the witch agreed. JJ walked off, digging in her coat pocket for her cell phone.

Hermione stood from the table she'd been leaning against, and moved to Carol's. The mother had her head buried in her arms and was sobbing with vigor. Taking the seat across from the woman, Hermione pulled out a pocket sized pack of tissues and pushed it into Carol's hand.

Still crying, she raised her head slightly so that Hermione could see her red rimmed eyes."Thanks," Mrs. Austin said, her voice hoarse.

"You're welcome."

Carol wiped her eyes and then blew her nose carefully. Her face was chapped and red all over, a testament to her emotional state. The pair sat in a tense silence as they waited for JJ to comeback.

"Aren't you going to question me, Agent?" Mrs. Austin finally asked. She looked at Hermione helplessly and it struck Hermione that this was the calmest she'd seen the woman all day.

"I'm not an FBI agent actually. I'm an intelligence attaché assigned to the Behavioral Analysis Unit from the British Army."

"We can't use one of our own people for that?" The dark haired woman asked, looking confused.

"You could, and you do, but this is the position assigned to me."

"If you're not an agent, how can you help find my daughter?"

Hermione met the challenging eyes of a heartbroken mother and answered honestly. "I don't have the training that the other agents do, but I don't consider that a disadvantage. As a matter of fact, it gives me an altered perspective that I find quite useful on most of our cases. I've looked for missing children before in my counter terrorism work so this isn't a new experience for me. But right now, the person who can help the most to find your daughter is you."

Carol squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders sagging. "I can't remember," She whispered. "I just can't remember any of it. Everything is a blur in my head and it doesn't make any sense. Who would do this? She's just a little girl. Casey loves art, and My Little Pony, and soccer. She'd a good girl, she doesn't deserve this!"

"No one deserves this, Mrs. Austin." Hermione reached across the table and took the mother's hands. "Take a deep breath," she advised seeing Carol's eyes watering.

Carol sucked in a deep breath through her mouth and released it on a sigh.

"Okay, do it again this time through your nose and then let it out of your mouth," Hermione coached.

Following her instructions, Carol did so several times. Hermione felt the tremors in the woman's hands slowly fading as she kept breathing.

"This is like Lamaze class all over again," she told Hermione. A small smile twitched her lips. "I was so worried about child birth. I was sure that something would go wrong, but it didn't. Casey weighed seven pounds and four ounces when she was born. The doctor said it went fantastic for a first time delivery. It was such a perfect day. It was the best day of my life."

"I don't know about Lamaze class but this is what we're taught in boot camp. To breathe through the fear," Hermione explained. "You use the hardwiring to beat the software, so to speak."

Carol studied her. "How do you mean?"

"When you control your breathing by taking long deep breaths it has a certain effect on your brain. The parasympathetic nervous system is activated and it counters your fight or flight response, causing relaxation."

"It works," She told Hermione.

"Will you close your eyes for me Carol?" Hermione asked her.

Immediately the sleek brunette shook her head. "I can't remember anything!"

"I don't want you to think, all I want is for you to close your eyes. Take a few more deep breaths, slow and even."

Mrs. Austin did as Hermione asked, and it pacified her within seconds.

"Tell me about this morning. Why did you come to the park?"

"It was a spur of the moment trip. Jason was going to play tennis and Casey and I didn't have any plans. I suggested to her that we spend the afternoon at the park. The flying swings here are her favorite."

"How did you come here? Tell me everything you remember about getting here," Hermione said.

"We drove in my SUV. I listened to the radio." Mrs. Austin was getting tense again, thinking about where this was leading to. In Hermione's grasp her hands clenched. Hermione squeezed them and instructed Carol on her breathing in a low, even tone. She didn't have much of an idea what she was doing, but she could tell it was working.

"What did you listen to on the radio?"

"Katy Perry, One Direction and some other new song I don't know the name of."

"When you got here what was the first ride you went on?"

"Casey insisted we go to the flying swings first."

Hermione rubbed her thumbs over Mrs. Austin's knuckles, reassuring her. "You're doing great Carol. After that where did you go?"

"We went to the fortune teller. Casey was having her palm read. The fortune teller was telling her that she'd fall in love soon and Casey thought it was gross."

"And then what happened?"

"I turned around to look at the juggler. There were people in the way so I moved around them, just a few steps away from Casey. He was throwing bowling pins up in the air and I wanted to show Casey. But then I turned around and she wasn't there anymore!"

Tears began to fall again, but Mrs. Austin didn't dissolve like she had earlier. Instead she kept going. "I didn't panic at first. I was worried, but I was sure she was close by. The fortune teller said she'd followed me, so I walked back to the crowd by the juggler. I was sure she'd be there, looking for me. She wasn't. I was so scared by that point I was running around in circles asking everyone if they'd seen her. Someone called security for me and they shut down the park. It's all a blur."

"Tell me about the crowd near the juggler. Did you see anyone in the crowd that sticks out?"

"No, but I'm not watching the crowd."

"Think, Carol. Block out the juggler, imagine that he isn't there. Tell me whatever comes to mind."

"There's a man in a blue baseball cap that I glanced at," Carol said uncertainly. "I thought there was something familiar about him, but I was too focused on the entertainment to pay attention."

"Thank you." Hermione said. "You can open your eyes now, you did good."

"We'll start looking for the man in the baseball cap on the film," JJ said. Hermione turned around and found the agent standing off to the side. She was partially hidden by the shadow, but had obviously been listening. The blond woman offered Mrs. Austin a smile. "That was exactly what we needed. You just gave us our first concrete lead."

Carol's eyes widened. She looked between the agent and Hermione. "I did?"

"Yes," JJ told her. "Captain Granger and I will go review the tapes. We'll find your man in the blue hat so he can be interrogated."

Tears appeared once again in Mrs. Austin's eyes as JJ left. Hermione swung her legs out from the bench and made to follow Agent Jareau when Carol's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"Wait!" the woman gasped. Hermione stopped.

"I know what you think of me," Mrs. Austin said. "I saw the expression on your face earlier when I couldn't answer Agent Jareau's questions. I'm not a bad mother, and I want to help. Here."

She dug in her pocket and pulled out a cat's cradle brook. "Jason taught her to play a few weeks ago. She gave it to me to keep safe. Please just take it while you look for Casey, it'll remind you of her. I want you to know she's a person, with her own interests and flaws and personality. She's special; find her."

Hermione took the string from Carol, and met her eyes remorsefully.

"I wasn't looking at you, Mrs. Austin. Something happen to me a while ago and I watched my friends die. There's a sound someone makes when they're in pain, whether its physical or emotional. When you made that sound, it triggered a memory. I'm sorry it showed on my face and made you feel uncomfortable," Hermione said.

Carol looked surprised, and opened her mouth, presumably to apologize. She didn't want to hear it, so Hermione walked away. The last thing she wanted was an unnecessary apology. Resisting the urge to grind her teeth, she ran through an impressive list of curse words, directed at herself. How could she have added to an innocent mother's pain like that?

At present there was no time for her to regret her actions so she put it out of her mind as she entered the security room.

Inside she found Hotch, JJ and several park officers leaning over the screens.

"Go over it again," Hotch ordered in a terse voice. The officer jumped to replay the tape. Hermione watched the figures on the screen and noted Mrs. Austin approaching the juggler. Her movements were composed, indicating that she hadn't discovered her daughter was gone yet. A large crowd was gathered around the juggler, and Hermione sorted through the figures until she found a blue ball cap.

"There," she pointed. At the edge of the screen the corner of a ball cap stuck out. "She glances at him briefly. It's the only deviation her eyes make."

They watched as the bill of the cap disappeared from the screen and didn't reemerge.

"Do you have another angle," JJ asked. "Something that will show what direction he went?"

"This is the only camera on that part of the park," the security officer said grimly.

At those words the fight seemed to drain out of everyone in the room from the agents to the security officers. Even Hotch wasn't unaffected, squeezing his eyes shut and looking exhausted. Just as quickly he recovered.

"Granger, JJ," he barked. "Go back to that location and figure out where he went."

The women didn't pause to reply but hurried to follow his orders. At a pace so quick it was almost a jog, they returned to the scene of the disappearance. Hermione located the discretely placed camera and moved to the area where the person had been standing. JJ followed her.

"Are you sure this is it?" she asked, studying the camera's range.

"This is it," Hermione said with certainty. "If I'd been planning an abduction I would have probably come to this spot. The camera on the far side," she pointed out the machine, "is a decoy. The overhang from the fortune teller's tent makes this a dead zone for surveillance."

"But where would you have gone?" JJ asked. "You can't go left, there's no outlet."

Hermione turned in a slow circle, studying all possible exits. The indoor theme park was filled with roller coasters, game booths and vendors. There were tents, kiosks and stalls that took up every square inch of the space. Where they were standing kind of reminded her of the Hogwarts dungeon. There were many ways in and out of the magical castle's basement, Hermione remembered. Originally those passages had been created for convince according to Hogwarts: A History. Perhaps in this crowded park, some of the workers did same. If they wanted to avoid the crowds it would be easy enough to make passageways between the tents and stalls.

She moved towards the nearest tent which housed a sword swallower's stage. With one eye on the camera she noted that this path kept her out of camera range. Just before the other camera picked her up, she was able to duck behind the stage's curtain.

"Wow," JJ said, following Hermione around. "It keeps you hidden, but where do you go from here?"

The witch wandered across the stage, to the back of the tent. Grasping the back curtain, she jerked it aside. JJ went to the other side and pulled up the other part of the curtain, revealing the bottom half of the wall. The motion revealed a small door, no more than a meter high.

"Not what I was expecting, but it explains things," Hermione said. Clicking on her radio she relayed the information to Hotch.

"It's not on any blue prints of the building, but one of the security guards said that's part of the renovated section. A few years ago the park expanded when the post office next door shut down. They combined the building with the existing structure. It's possible this from the expansion."

"The door isn't much more than a crawl space," Hermione said. "We'd like to open it."

There was a moment of silence. "Do it," Hotch said finally. "But proceed with caution."

Sliding the blot on the door back, JJ swung it open and stepped though. Inside it was pitch black.

"We'll have to go back and get flashlights," the Agent said, knowing every moment they were delayed was wasting precious time that Casey Austin didn't have.

"Here," Hermione said. She'd altered the inside pocket of her jacket with an expansion charm. Inside she carried numerous supplies, some magical and some muggle. Since joining the team the non magical items had been moved to the top. Surrounded by muggles, using her wand was out, so she'd added flashlights and extra batteries. She handed one to JJ.

"You carry this stuff around on you," the blond asked her, visually scanning Hermione, undoubtedly wondering where the flashlight had come from.

"Yes," Hermione said, ducking into the tunnel ahead of her partner. If she didn't make a big deal out of it, there was a good chance the agent wouldn't either. Luckily, JJ didn't question her.

In the tunnel the women didn't have to stoop for long. Some ways in the channel opened into a wide passageway large enough for a man. Like the park, these walls were cinder-block, but much older. It reminded Hermione of the Chamber of Secrets. Before long they reached a fork in the path.

"Damn it," JJ swore in frustration. Hermione could imagine that as a mother this case was difficult to handle. "Which way do we go from here?"

Hermione studied the walls and then the floor. They were strewn with trash and covered in grime.

"This way," She pointed. "The dust has been tracked through. See the disturbances?"

"Not really, but I believe you," JJ said without bothering to look.

Quietly they continued navigating the dark hall with ease as Hermione's powerful flashlights lit the way for them. Hermione's flashlight flickered and she reached into her pocket for extra batteries. Inside she felt a string and frowned, knowing that she didn't carry string with her. Then she remembered the string was the cradle brook that Carol had given her. A shiver ran down her spine.

She had an item that belonged to Casey Austin. A simple spell over the object could lead her directly to the missing girl, if she was willing to risk it.

"Is everything okay?"

Hermione realized that JJ was waiting for her to replace her batteries and she was standing there staring off into space with her hand in her pocket.

"Yeah, fine." Hermione fumbled in her pocket and then turned away, pretending to dig in her jacket. "They're in here somewhere."

Behind her she heard the shuffled of feet as JJ grew impatient. With her back to the woman Hermione pulled out the child's string but left her wand in her pocket. The spell would be difficult to do without her wand but it was too dangerous to chance exposing the magical item to a muggle. Magic buzzed through her veins as she focused on the words of the incantation needed for the charm to work.

 _Let the string bind to show me where the owner is_ , Hermione thought as she altered the last words of the charm. This way she wouldn't need to see the object but when she found the Austin girl the string would slowly tie itself into knots, revealing her proximity and ultimately her location. Kind of like a game of hot and cold, but with the movements of a string. She tucked the string into her hands, looping it around her fingers and clasping it in her palm. Emulating from the string there was a soft heat of magic that assured her the charm was in effect.

Hermione reloaded the batteries of her flashlight, and turned back to JJ.

"Fixed. Let's go."

The pair began to move but Hermione noticed that JJ shot her an apprehensive glance when she thought the witch wasn't looking. It was clear that the blond had noticed something was off. Could she feel the magic? Hermione wondered. It was possible but unlikely. Most muggles could only feel the strongest spells and she'd only used a simple charm.

Up ahead the hallway narrowed and took a sharp turn. Rounding the corner Hermione saw a sliver of light in the distance. Squinting she realized it was the gap between the bottom of a door and the ground.

"Door way up ahead," JJ murmured.

"Got it," Hermione replied. Around her finger the string twitched and she tensed. Was Casey up ahead? Five more steps in the cradles brook convulsed around her fingers and determinedly knotted itself into a ball. Astonished, Hermione stopped. Had the spell not worked?

"What's wrong, do you see something?" JJ asked, stopping alongside her. With her flashlight she scanned the area around them, searching for whatever had brought them to a standstill.

Spells were never wrong, Hermione told herself, beginning to scan the area with JJ. There was a pile of broken crates off to the side, a few piles of trash and a stack of ruined cardboard boxes that looked moldy. Nothing looked out of place.

"Do you mind telling me what we're looking for?" the blond asked her.

"I don't know. I just," Hermione broke off, struggling for a reasonable explanation. "There's something here, I can feel it in my bones."

Crossing to the dirty cardboard boxes, Hermione shoved them with her foot, looking for signs they'd been moved.

"Captain, the girl isn't here, we need to keep moving. You're wasting time." JJ's tone was firm. "Whoever took her probably used this as an escape tunnel and we need to find out where it goes. If they've escaped the park, we need to let the team know and put out an AMBER alert."

Hermione ignored her, turning to the trash. She took a step in that direction and the cradles' brook suddenly jerked around her fingers so tightly it almost cut off circulation. Following its prompt, she kept going in that direction, past the debris and to the pile of broken crates. Through their damaged slats she saw a small hand. The string around her fingers jerked insistently, trying to tie itself into knots that her fingers wouldn't allow. Grabbing the top crate, Hermione threw it aside, sending it flying down the passage. She kicked aside the other crates, overcome with anticipation.

Suddenly JJ appeared by her side, digging with the same fervor. "I saw her, she's in here!"

Together they lifted aside the last crate, revealing an unconscious child. She lay so still that Hermione was suddenly afraid to touch her. JJ had no such reservations, feeling along the neck for a pulse. Frozen, the witch waited for a reaction.

"She's alive," JJ gasped, her voice cracking.

Hermione reached for her radio, flicking the button that would let her give the team the good news. Static buzzed and she tried again. "Our radios work in this part of the building."

"Stay with her," JJ said. "I'll go radio the team."

Nodding the witch crouched by Casey, reaching out to grasp the little girl's hand. "Bring a medic for her. She was probably drugged."

The agent nodded, before taking off towards the door. Hermione waited with Casey Austin watching the child's breathing carefully. She'd been watching the rise and fall of her chest so closely that she didn't notice the fluttering of eyelashes at first. It was a twitch of the hand she was holding that alerted her Casey was waking. The young brow furrowed in confusion when her eyes finally opened. Dazed the green eyes darted around the darkened room. Finally, her eyes lit on Hermione, who was crouched next to her and in the hazy light from the propped up flashlight, Hermione saw fear take root.

"It's okay," Hermione assured her. "You're going to be okay. I'm with the police."

The girl sniffled and tears filled her eyes. She said nothing, but her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

Helpless as to how she should comfort a traumatized child, Hermione did the only thing she could.

"Do you want a hug?" the witch offered.

She was unsure of what the girl had been through and didn't want to startle her, so she asked before acting. Casey flung herself with surprising strength at Hermione, and she barely managed to catch her.

Tears began in earnest when she wrapped her arms around the child. Shifting so that she was seated on the ground, Hermione held the girl in her lap and patted her back.

"We'll get you back to your Mom and Dad, okay?" she promised.

Casey jerked away, and Hermione could see that she was terrified. "No!"

Revulsion flooded her mind, but the witch hid it. The disgust she felt was directed at the kidnapper, not this child, but if she sensed Hermione's feelings she might misinterpret them. Keeping a calm facade up, Hermione smoothed a hand over the girl's hair.

"Casey I understand that a lot has happened to you today. I want you to know that no matter how you've been hurt, your parents still love you very much, okay? You have nothing to be ashamed of, do you understand me?"

A frown passed over Casey's face, and she shook her head again. "Nobody hurt me. But he said he would! But he was sorry and it was only for the money."

 _Money?_ There hadn't been a ransom demand.

"That's enough," a deep voice said from behind her.

Hermione whirled, drawing her weapon and placing herself between the child and the man.

"Mr. Austin," she said facing him.

The tall blond man held a gun to JJ's head and his eyes were cold. One of his arms was wrapped around JJ's neck holding her in front of him. "Agent," he said calmly. Apparently he didn't know she wasn't FBI either.

Behind her, Casey whimpered. Hermione wanted to reassure the girl, but couldn't take her attention off Jason Austin.

"Move aside and let me have my daughter or I'll kill your partner."

"Not going to happen," Hermione said.

Jason tightened his elbow around JJ's neck and she wheezed as her airway was constricted. "I'll kill her."

"Killing an FBI agent isn't a good idea," she told him.

"I intend to kill two," he replied. "You're next and then the kid."

"You mean your daughter. I take it you have a life insurance policy on her?" Hermione asked.

"I need the money," Jason said, desperation bleeding into his voice.

"This isn't the solution. This place is crawling with cops and security agents. Even if you kill us, there's no way out. Committing a triple homicide means life in prison, but if you're caught on kidnapping there's a thirty-year maximum charge in D.C. You could be out earlier with good behavior and a defense attorney. Lowering that weapon would be the smartest thing you've done all day."

"I'm dead if I don't get that money," Jason said. "You don't know the people I owe! They'll kill me faster than you'd step on a spider."

"We can help you with that too," Hermione said serenely.

Jason wavered for a moment, looking distressed. His gun moved away from JJ's face for a second. He was a tall, heavily built man and JJ was slender. As a shield, she wasn't much cover. It was dark in the passage and the space between Jason and JJ was a small target, but Hermione knew her capabilities. She fired, striking the shoulder of the arm he held the gun with. The impact knocked him to the ground and JJ threw herself away from him, landing hard on the ground. As soon as she was safe, she stood and pulled her own weapon, covering him so that Hermione could approach. The witch caught the man's uninjured arm and flipped him on to his stomach, roughly pulling his other arm around to cuff him. Jason moaned in pain.

"Shut up," Hermione hissed, forcing him to his feet. JJ picked up Casey Austin and led them to the end of the tunnel where she opened the door. The missing girl, cuffed father and two rumpled women stepped out into the well-lit theme park, coming face to face with Hotch, the rest of the team and an entourage of park security agents.

It was hard to tell who was more shocked, them or the team. Hotch took in Jason Austin's shoulder wound and Casey propped on JJ's hip. The little girl had buried her face into JJ's neck and was crying again.

"Get the kid a medic," he ordered.

* * *

Hermione collapsed into her office chair. Without a doubt that was the longest, most tedious experience of her life. Who knew there were that many hoops to jump through for just shooting someone? From the paperwork to the interviews and then the forensics, she was exhausted. Her eyes drifted closed and she reminded herself to write down her appointment with the audiologist in her calendar. It was FBI procedure that her hearing be checked after exposure to gunfire. That was just one appointment of many she'd be attending over the next few days before she could return to duty.

A knock on her door surprised her. Sitting up and opening her eyes, Hermione took in the tired figure of Jennifer Jareau.

"Hey," the blonde said awkwardly. "I was heading home and I saw your light on. Thought I'd return this," she said, holding up the flashlight as she crossed to one of Hermione's guest chairs.

"Thanks," Hermione said, accepting the light.

"Nice flashlight," JJ commented. "That's the same brand the SEALs use, right?"

Hermione shrugged choosing not to comment. She made an effort to redirect the conversation. "How are you doing?"

"Good," JJ said, leaning back and crossing her legs. "It was a rough day for everyone. I just hope that kid is okay."

"Therapy can work wonders. Besides, she's got a good mom. I could hardly believe it when she punched her husband in the face."

JJ grinned. "Neither could anyone else. She acted so collected and then, wham, right in the face!"

"Carol Austin is my new hero," Hermione agreed.

A silence fell and JJ got to the point of her visit. "Thank you. You made an extremely difficult shot that saved my life. He wasn't going to stop."

"No need to thank me," Hermione replied. "I'm just glad you're okay."

JJ had all sorts of questions for Hermione. Why had she those expensive flashlights, where had she kept them and how had she landed a shot in Jason Austin's shoulder in the dark. But the clock edged towards eight thirty and she knew she would miss another of Henry's bedtimes if she didn't head home now. Saying as much to Captain Granger she rose from the chair. Much to her surprise the curly headed woman grabbed her bag and coat and volunteered to walk with her to the parking garage. On the way, JJ made small talk, unobtrusively digging for more information. During the past few weeks the soldier had been opening up more but she sensed that the woman still had many secrets that she wasn't sharing.

So JJ satisfied herself with finding out that Hermione Granger had a godson back in England that lived with his grandmother. She knitted in her spare time, was training for a half marathon and loved skiing. It wasn't much, just little details but as she got into her car JJ realized that their group was assimilating their new member quite nicely. That night standing in Henry's doorway watching him sleep, she acknowledged that Granger's skill was the only reason she was home, not lying in the morgue. And that, JJ thought, was more than enough.

* * *

 **Please leave a review.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Gunboat

**Thank you for all the activity on this story! The response has been awesome. This is the fastest a story has ever taken off for me, so a big thanks to everyone who has favorited, followed or reviewed. I realize this update was a bit slow, but school is making me busy. All I can promise is that I'm still into this series as much as you all are, so please stick with me!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Hermione snuck out of the Hogwarts grand ballroom through one of the many entrances. When she was safely away from the party, she slipped off her heels and walked barefoot through the hallway until she found a quiet alcove hidden behind a curtain. In the small area she performed an expansion charm that enlarged it to a comfortable size. All it needed was a sofa to be complete. Wandlessly, she did the spell and a well stuffed couch appeared. Without regard for manners, she flung herself onto the comfortable piece of furniture and groaned. Tonight had been an exercise in patience. Scipio Welles had been pursuing her all night.

Welles was one of the post war leaders of industry in magical England.

Among his numerous contracts, his company provided Dumbledore's Army with the bulk of their supplies. His products ranged from flying cars (only recently made legal) to dragon skin armor that was surprisingly effective. Tonight he'd had his sights set on her to be his next spell crafter, and had been hounding her with job offers.

The curtain of her hiding place was jerked back. Hermione started, coming up with her wand raised.

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "I take it you aren't enjoying Hogwarts' First Annual Military Ball?" he questioned mildly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and put her wand away. "That was unintentional. How did you know I was here?"

"I saw you sneak out and thought it was a good idea."

He pulled out his wand and wordlessly produced a coffee table. On it the fixings of a proper tea appeared, along with a platter of sandwiches.

"Food," Hermione said reverently, grabbing a sandwich. "I was getting ready to eat my napkin!"

Harry pushed her feet off the end of the couch and claimed it. He propped his feet on the coffee table and snapped his fingers. A sandwich flew into his hand.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Fancy."

"I thought so too. Don't tell Ron he'd be jealous."

"I'm jealous," she protested. "How did you do that? When did you learn it?"

"I'm not sure, and it started happening a few months ago."

Now _that_ was interesting, Hermione thought. Harry was able to do magic- wandless magic- without even thinking about it. The ability was a rare one, and she'd never met anyone capable of such a thing before. She'd read about it, though where exactly she couldn't recall.

"This a much better party," Harry said as he contentedly munched on his sandwich. "This ball was a much better idea in theory than it's turned out to be."

"I totally agree," Hermione said with feeling.

Harry turned knowing green eyes on her. "Welles giving you a hard time?"

"Five job offers in just over an hour."

"He's nothing if not dedicated," Harry said.

She glared at him. "You're on my side, remember?"

"I'm just saying that he knows a good spell crafter when he sees one," her friend soothed.

"The man has never heard the word no before," Hermione complained.

"He heard it from me last week," Harry contended. "I turned down his contract to build a battleship."

He took a bite of the last sandwich with gusto.

"A _battleship_?" Hermione demanded.

Harry froze. Then he mumbled a swear word through a mouthful of cucumber sandwich.

"What could we possibly need a battleship for?" she exclaimed. "Haven't we militarized magical society enough?!"

"It's complicated," Harry hedged.

"Then explain."

He sighed. "Are we really going to do this right now?"

"Yes!"

"We need more fire power," Harry began. "Nothing we've thrown at the Southern State trips them up. The citizens are becoming angry and the press is feeding them a bunch of garbage about how this is because we're too weak. The Death Eaters are latching on to it like a bunch of leeches. Their propaganda is out of control."

"You're building a Navy because of bad press?" Hermione hissed.

"No. Two weeks ago three agents from the Order of the Phoenix turned up dead. Four days ago another one was murdered. This morning we couldn't make contact with our agent inside of the Death Eater's main compound. We're under attack, 'Mione. It isn't public but it's there, and the people can sense the atmosphere."

"What happened?" she demanded. "Do you have a mole?"

Harry shrugged. "Probably. But even so, the situation points to a bigger problem. We can't allow the State to grow anymore. As it is they've had too much time to consolidate and the army needs to catch up. We've decided to build a prototype gunboat because much of the Death Eaters' territory boarders the ocean. If we can launch an attack from the north over land and another from the ocean, pouring troops in from both directions, we'll overwhelm them. A strong Navy could reduce our time at war by years."

Hermione sat silently, mulling over what he'd said. Her emotions railed against an increased military presence because of what it meant for society. Having a big stick made other people think they needed a big stick too, didn't it? Were they inciting an arms race in Europe that would build into a situation like the muggle World War I?

By the same measure, what would it mean if they didn't do this?

She trusted Harry and knew he made good decisions, especially about military matters. In many ways, he was born to be a soldier. He was right. Devastating the Southern State with a coordinated attack from both sides would tear it to shreds. It was clear that the Death Eaters had built a comfortable and organized administration in their territory, if they'd established a mole in the Order of the Phoenix. Her mind shuddered to think that the entirety of their intelligence organization was compromised.

"What are you doing to locate the mole?"

"McGonagall is feeding false information into various reports. Things that would be too juicy for a double agent not to report. We're working through the order department by department to try and root out the source. It would be easier if we hadn't added so many positions," Harry grumbled.

"Intelligence is the key to avoiding another war," Hermione quoted herself from five years ago. When she'd said that it had seemed to easy. They would surround the Death Eater's tiny claim in Southern England and beat it into submission. When they had no support left and no income, the Death Eaters would disband for good. How they had miscalculated, she thought.

"So we're building this gunboat," Hermione said finally. "How does it even work? Guns and magic don't exactly mix."

"I don't entirely understand it but George certainly does. He's built several model cannons that are capable of launching a variety of spells and other weapons."

"Weapons? Spells?" Hermione stared at him incredulously. "What did you two even build?"

It all sounded very improbable to her.

"You remember when Professor Quirell jinxed that bludger to go after me?"

Hermione nodded.

"Imagine a really large one of those with a location as its target, say a certain building in the Southern State. How much damage do you think it could do?"

She'd never considered it and as she tried to think of such a possibility it boggled her mind.

"It could take out ten whole city blocks," Harry said. "And there are designs of cannons that could launch spells against their protective enchantments. Olivander has been helping design them."

"I feel kind of sick," Hermione said.

Harry said nothing. He reached for his tea and calmly took a sip.

Suddenly Hermione was furious with him. What had happened to her best friend who didn't want to teach a defense club? Where was her best friend who was the kindest person she'd ever met? When had he started blowing up cities and thinking it was a good thing?

"I can't get behind this," she said finally.

"Sorry?" Harry asked blankly.

"We can't do this. We're destroying the balance of power in magical Europe. It will only lead to harm. I have to go," she said and stood up.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed following her as she strode away. Behind them the spell reversed itself, turning their sitting area back into an alcove.

She stalked down the hall, away from the ballroom. Harry's long legs quickly caught up with her.

"I realize you're thinking in terms of international consequences, but we have to think of our people. Right now, there are citizens of magical England living under Death Eater rule. We have no idea what they're going through, but from what little we've gleaned it's not pleasant. I'm thinking of them. There is no room in this country for violent, genocidal maniacs to have a safe haven!"

"I agree with what you're saying mentally, but my heart can't back it," Hermione argued, rounding the corner. Harry kept up with her hurried pace, and when she stopped on the stairwell, he nearly ran into her. Hermione whirled around and faced her best friend down. "We're ruining a peaceful world," she said empathetically.

"Peaceful?! Tell that to everyone in the Southern State! They're murdering muggle born people in the street, men, women, and children alike. That's not peace, it's totalitarianism. _We have a responsibility to stop these fanatics!_ You know who said that to me? You're the one who said that to me!" Harry's voice rose on every word until he was shouting.

"We're revolutionizing magical warfare and constructing a militant society that will have a domino effect until we're all posturing like the muggles! War will be normalized to the point it's an inevitability! They'll just have a war every twenty years or so. Because that's what we started!" Hermione shouted back. "I want to leave a legacy of peace, not one of systemic violence!"

Harry planted his hands on his hips and glared at her. "You live in a dream world. When you can get off your soap box of delusion and come back to the real world, let me know."

With those cutting words, Harry stalked away.

* * *

Hermione took a port key back to Washington D.C.

She sat on her couch staring into space for a while and wondering how her life had deteriorated into this. Was it a gradual thing, or had it happened suddenly and she just hadn't noticed?

Her mind went around in circles, arguing that the D.A.'s expansion was a good thing and then that it would ruin the magical world. A full hour of this and she was beginning to get a headache. Without bothering to change out of her evening gown, Hermione left her apartment. Outside she realized that the time change meant it was past midnight in D.C. A walk was out of the question at this time of night no matter how safe her neighborhood was. Hermione dug out her car keys from her clutch, opting for a drive.

She drove aimlessly until she saw the neon lights of a bar and parked. A drink was just what she needed right now. Since she was driving and alcohol was never a solution, she'd only have one drink. Inside, the bar was sparsely populated. Her eyes scanned the patrons out of habit.

A couple sat on barstools, lost in their own conversation. Behind them a group of wall street types hung out at a circular table. In the far booth, she caught sight of the back of Derek Morgan's head. He appeared out of sorts and his shoulders were slumped. For a moment she debated approaching. They'd grown fairly close but there were still certain boundaries she wanted to maintain. It would be a disaster if she accidentally was caught in a lie and her true identity was revealed to the team. Hermione knew they would never trust her again. It was a short internal debate. Morgan needed a friend and a ride home. As she walked to the tables, a half dozen empty beer bottles came into view. In his hand was a tumbler of amber liquid.

Apparently he'd started on the hard liquor.

"Hey Derek," Hermione said, striving for casual.

The handsome agent looked up, eyes bloodshot. "Hey there," he said with a goofy smile as his somber mood evaporated. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to have a drink, but you may have sold them out," she replied with a nod at his collection of empty bottles.

Morgan giggled. She'd never heard that sound from him before.

"That's a good one, Granger. I'll have to remember that. Have a seat," he motioned at the seat across from him.

She sank into it, sweeping the voluminous skirt of her dress with her. The movement caught Derek's attention. He raised an eyebrow.

"Fancy dress," he slurred.

"It was a fancy party," Hermione returned.

"And you ditched it for this place?" Derek motioned around to the half empty bar. He leaned over the table. "They water down the liquor," he whispered. Hermione caught the strong smell of bourbon on him before he settled back on his side of the table, throwing back the rest of his drink in one swallow.

"The food was microscopic," she blithely deflected.

"Oh. You want onion rings?"

"No thanks, I snuck out and got some food with a friend. So what brings you here?"

A shadow passed over her friend's face. "You ever trust somebody and then have them throw it all away?"

"Yes."

"It sucks," Derek said, motioning to the bartender for a refill. Hermione was silent while the drink came and watched as Morgan took a healthy drink from his replenished glass.

She was at a loss of what to say, when the bartender announced last call to the patrons and informed them they were closing in thirty minutes. Hermione looked at her watch and was surprised to find it was two thirty.

"Would you like a ride home?" Hermione offered.

"Nope. I don't want to go home," Morgan said bitterly staring down at his hands.

She couldn't hide her surprise and he glanced up in time to catch it.

"Savanah and I broke up," he explained.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said automatically.

Morgan's lips twisted bitterly. "There are only so many options when you come home to find her in bed on top of her coworker."

Hermione was aghast.

"He's married with a kid on the way, which is the real kicker. It's kind of funny that my whole world's fallen apart and all I can think about is the woman he cheated on. Savanah hasn't crossed my mind all night. What kind of scum screws around on a pregnant woman?"

She said nothing, because Morgan needed to get this out. He shook his head, looking angry.

"If I had a pregnant wife, I'd be going crazy over her," he said. Hermione could hear the longing in his voice as he spoke. "Ten years ago, I was the ultimate player. Now, I'd give anything to have what that man does. Or did, I suppose."

Hermione reached across the table and took the hand that wasn't wrapped around his drink between her own. "I'm sorry. No one deserves that."

"I thought she was the one," Morgan confessed.

Helplessly she squeezed his hand.

"We're closing in ten minutes!" the bartender announced.

"Come on. If you want my guest room it's yours," Hermione offered. "Or I could drive you to Garcia's."

"I'll take your guest room over Garcia's couch," Morgan said. "Besides, Sam is staying over most nights now and she doesn't have a door on her bed room."

"I don't want to know," she said, lips quirking.

Morgan paused, his drunkenness confusing him. After a moment his wording dawned on him.

"No! It's not like they're getting frisky or anything. Sam snores!"

Hermione laughed, prompting Morgan to join her. Their plans decided they stood from the table and exited the bar. She led him to her car surprised, yet grateful Derek was so steady on his feet. Carrying two hundred pounds of FBI agent wouldn't be possible for her without magic. The ride back to her house passed in silence as Morgan seemed lulled by the motion of the car. She was almost worried that he would fall asleep on her, in which case she would have to carry him up to her apartment. When they finally reached her parking garage, he came back to himself. Without incident they got to her apartment. The first thing Hermione did was try to get Morgan some fluids.

"Here drink this," she told him, pulling a cold bottle of water out of the fridge.

"Fine," Morgan said. "But I'm not drunk you know. I only had a few."

"Of course not," Hermione soothed. If Derek wasn't totally plastered then she was a Tibetan Monk.

She went to the guest room and double checked that there were sheets on the bed before returning to the kitchen where she found Morgan rifling through her fridge.

"Do you have any not healthy food?" he asked.

"In the pantry, third shelf. Get me the goldfish crackers while you're in there."

Derek found the door and returned with a box of s'mores pop tarts and her crackers. "Those are for kids," he informed her, with the sage authority only someone three sheets to the wind could manage.

"I don't care. They come highly recommended- my godson Teddy won't snack on anything else."

"I wish I had kids," Morgan sighed. "Nobody wants to have them with me though. Will you have kids with me if I turn fifty and I'm still childless, Granger?"

Hermione snorted. "You are hammered, Derek."

"I'm serious," he said, becoming cantankerous. "I want kids!" He took a bite of pop tart. "Don't you?" he asked through a mouthful.

"I'm only telling you this because I'm eighty percent sure you won't remember it in the morning," Hermione said with a sigh. Gathering her courage, she took a deep breath. "I can't have kids."

Derek froze, his eyebrows coming together. He stood like that for a long moment, and then sat the pop tart down on the counter. Crossing the kitchen to where Hermione leaned against the counter, he swept her into a bear hug.

"I'm sorry," Morgan said.

He smelled of beer and smoke from the bar. His hug was too tight, but Hermione felt something inside of her settle when she hugged him back.

Her infertility stemmed from surviving the Cruciatis curse in such severe amounts. Healers had only discovered her condition when a comprehensive check was done after she was rescued from the Death Eaters a second time. There was absolutely no hope that she'd ever bear children of her own.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad," Morgan said. "I'm sorry."

"It's something I can live with," Hermione said with finality pulling out of his embrace. "I'm not offended at all; you couldn't have known."

"Let's go to bed before I say anything else," Morgan said.

Hermione snickered.

"Not together! Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"Tomorrow's going to be a fun morning."

"Not for me," Derek said as he shuffled off to the guest room.

Hermione woke up promptly at seven, even though it was a Saturday.

Rolling out of bed she took her time with her morning routine and headed to the kitchen to start breakfast. She fixed herself an omelet and decided to wait for Morgan before she fixed anything for him. With that in mind she grabbed a Gatorade from the pantry and put it in the fridge to chill, so he could replace his electrolytes.

She took her omelet to the living room and turned on the TV. Bypassing the news, because it was Saturday, she turned on an episode of the Big Bang Theory. After watching the recent episode she'd missed she went back to watch reruns of a season she hadn't seen. Ten o clock came and went before Hermione heard stirring from the guest room. A few minutes later Morgan stumbled into the living room looking wrecked. She muted the TV.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked.

"I'm alive. That's as much as I can say."

"You want breakfast?"

"No." Derek shuddered. "Food repulses me."

"There's a cold Gatorade in the fridge."

"You're a saint, I love you, Granger."

Morgan picked up the drink and came to sit on the couch with her, taking notice of the TV. "This is from what, season four?"

"Yup. Reruns," Hermione said.

Her friend began to fiddle with the cap of the bottle, a tell when he had something on his mind. She waited, watching the silent TV set, and he eventually spoke up.

"I'm sorry about last night."

"It's fine," she reassured him.

"You didn't need to hear all of that though."

"If you'd like I can forget some of it," Hermione offered, thinking he might be uncomfortable with all that he'd shared last night.

"I trust you," Morgan said immediately, turning to face her. "I just get the sense that you've got a lot on your plate too."

Hermione didn't know what to say. No one had noticed her struggles for so long that she didn't expect them to anymore. "Oh," was all she managed.

"Nice dress last night," he offered, waiting for a reply.

"I had an event."

"Something in your tone tells me it didn't go well."

"I had a fight with my best friend. We just can't see eye to eye these days."

Morgan smiled. "Keep talking. That's all there is too it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Hermione said. "I'm sorry about Savanah. Do you want me to go slash her tires or anything?"

He laughed.

"I'm serious! I'll do it, just say the word!"

"Not a chance," Morgan said. "Garcia would insist on tagging along. Then you'd get caught and who would bail you out of jail? Me."

"I'm an intelligence operative," Hermione defended herself. "I could evade Penelope."

"No one can evade Penelope," he replied. "I've tried everything. Nothing works. Besides, I don't want you putting your career at risk just because my life sucks."

"Your life doesn't suck. Your taste in women, maybe, but I haven't known you long enough to make that judgement."

"Hey, she was a doctor. She went to Harvard!" Morgan argued.

"That says nothing about her character. I've known a lot of smart people, I'm one of them."

"You're all humility, aren't you?"

Hermione continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You need someone who cares about you more than they even care about themselves. Someone who handles conflict like an adult and has good communication skills. Don't let yourself fall for a person who doesn't have those qualities."

"Let yourself?" Derek asked. "Isn't that an unromantic view of love?"

"No. It's a realistic view of love. Some relationships should end before they start."

He cocked his head. "The voice of experience, huh?"

"Ron didn't cheat on me. But he couldn't talk about a problem to save his life. We were over before we even began."

"How long did you last?" Morgan asked curiously.

"A year and a half," she replied.

"Savanah was my longest relationship."

"You'll find another woman," Hermione promised.

A silence fell between them and she ended it by flicking the TV's sound back on.

Derek propped up his feet and sipped his Gatorade, watching the show with her for the better part of the morning. On the taxi ride to pick up his truck though, he couldn't help but think about her last words. You'll find another woman. Someone who cares about you. Someone who handles conflict like an adult. A person with good communication skills.

Maybe he had already found that woman.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	7. Chapter 7: Murders in Museums

**A/N: Thank you for your support of this story. I wrote this chapter about three different times before I was happy with it, which is why this update was such a long wait. I hope it turned out okay. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Spinning in a circle, Hermione took stock of her surroundings. She stood in the hallway of the Museum of Natural History in Nashville, Tennessee. To the left there was a mammoth skeleton. To the right, a room of priceless gems, and at her feet, lay a dead security guard.

"See anything out of the ordinary," one of the uniforms asked her curiously.

"It's certainly an unusual method of killing," Hermione commented on the obvious.

"Never seen anything like it especially in these parts," the young man responded.

Together they both stared at the Ethiopian spear that protruded from the corpse's chest. It looked like a weapon of opportunity, having come from a nearby exhibit. Hermione paced around the room one more time, admitting to herself that something felt off about the scene. Since they'd stepped into the building fifteen minutes earlier the hair on her arms had been raised and her stomach had butterflies. It was very odd and she hadn't been able to figure the sensation's source.

"Spears represent directness and honor in spiritual contexts," Spencer said, coming up behind them. "They also represent power and will in dream interpretation."

"Well, this is one type of power and someone's will was expressed," the officer noted.

"I'm not sure that's a relevant observation," Hermione interjected. "What did you find with security?" she asked Spencer.

"There was no tampering with the security system at all. It just went down." He shook his head. "Nothing about this makes sense. Why would anyone go on a killing spree of museum security guards?"

"I think they're looking for a particular item," Hermione said.

"We haven't considered that angle," Reid admitted, mulling it over.

"From the beginning we thought that security guards were an excessively narrow target pool," she stated. "Our unsub has moved all over the Deep South, killing security guards in three different museums. However, he's never taken anything or set off any alarms."

"Or left evidence as to how he gets in," the genius added.

"Exactly. There's no camera footage, yet all of the museums had camera systems. No one hacked them and as far as we can tell they all just went on the fritz as soon as he walked in. Who goes to all that trouble and doesn't steal a thing? Someone on a mission. I'm beginning to think the killing is just a means to an end."

"He's eliminating witnesses so that he can search the museum without being caught," Reid said. "It makes sense in a weird way. Only someone very callous about human life could do that though. We're probably dealing with a psychopath."

"Why isn't he finding what he's looking for," Hermione wondered aloud.

"We were scheduled to get a new exhibit yesterday," the cop spoke up.

"Were?" Reid questioned.

"It got delayed because the museum in Jackson was delayed packing it up." He explained. "The whole town was really excited about the opening."

"What was the exhibit of?" Hermione asked.

"Jewelry." He nodded to the hall of gem stones behind her. "It was supposed to replace that."

"I'll call Garcia and ask where that exhibit has been," Reid said.

* * *

"So you're telling me the unsub is looking for a piece of jewelry," Hotch asked, looking unconvinced.

"We've seen obsessions turn to killing before," Reid insisted.

"Garcia gave us a manifest of what's in the display," Hermione said. "The only article that has any real significance is a pair of ancient Egyptian cuffs. They're supposedly the cuffs featured in a myth about a sorcerer who was enslaved to do his master's bidding."

"Is there anything significant in the myth that would intrigue the unsub?" Hotch asked.

"In the myth a Hebrew sorcerer gets sold to an Egyptian framer who discovers his powers. When he finds out, he realizes that the cuffs the slave was sold to him in were preventing the man from practicing magic. Naturally, he wanted this power for himself so he called on the local magician to create a spell that would give him the man's magic, but the spell backfired. Instead of transferring the magic it made the slave only able to do magic when asked by the master. The cuffs were fused to the slave's skin, becoming the mechanism of control over him. It was these cuffs, supposedly that kept the slave under the complete mental control of his master."

"We think that the unsub believes the myth," Spencer said. "It would explain why he's been stalking the collection."

"He's looking for a weapon," Hermione added.

Hotch shook his head, frowning. "Why hasn't he already found the jewelry? There's been three killings."

"It's moved unexpectedly twice and was delayed arriving in Nashville. Originally the pieces started on display in Atlanta at our first crime scene and were moved the morning before the crime. The moving company had its manifests mixed up, but the museum allowed them to pack it up early since the exhibit was already closed. After that it was in Jackson, Mississippi, our second crime scene. There they moved the jewelry to a secure location every night because of concerns about robbery. The pieces were supposed to arrive here this morning but they're still in Jackson because the company they belong to is having them cleaned."

"Our unsub's violence is growing because he feels frustrated," Reid put in.

"It makes sense," Hotch agreed, his eyebrows drawing together.

"I have a historian friend who worked in Egypt on a pyramid excavation," Hermione said. "I'd like to ask about the myth. It's not one of the better known ones, so I want to make sure we didn't get the twenty-five cent version."

"Good idea," Hotch permitted. "Do that. We'll give the profile."

Without being told Hermione knew she wasn't part of giving the profile. That job was regulated to the members of the team who were actually profilers.

Hotch and Reid disappeared around the corner leaving Hermione to go make her call. Knowing that she would need privacy for what she was about to do the witch went to the police station break room and isolated herself in the closet. There she withdrew her wand and preformed a lumos spell, lighting the room. Surveying her surroundings Hermione decided she had enough space and took off her jacket to dig out the instruments she would need for a magical call.

First she set up a caldron, lit a smokeless flame under it and mixed her ingredients. When steam began to waft into the air she did the charm over it, calling Bill Weasley's fireplace at Shell Cottage. Almost immediately he answered, his thin face appearing in the dense curtain of steam the hung over the caldron.

"Hermione! How have you been?" he asked with a grin.

"Good, how's Victorie?" Hermione asked, of his daughter who had been born six months ago.

"She's wonderful," Bill replied. "Fleur took her into town for a while. She's meeting her mother for lunch and Mrs. Dealcour never misses a chance to dote on her first grandchild."

"I would imagine that Molly doesn't either."

"Of course not, and it's becoming something of a competition. We'll have the most spoiled child in Europe if they don't tone it down," he admitted. "But I'm sensing this isn't a pleasure call, is it?"

"No. I'm in need of some advice on ancient Egyptian artifacts."

She filled him in on everything that she knew, explaining about the cuffs, the murders, and the information Garcia had managed to gather.

Bill frowned. "I'm actually very familiar with that myth," he said. "The muggle version of it is a bit different than the wizard's story. But from what you've described the cuffs are the same ones that feature in the magical tale."

"How is the muggle version different?"

"It leaves out the ending," Bill said. "In the wizard's interpretation of the myth the master dies, freeing the slave from his mind control. He becomes so enraged that he kills the man's family. When he finishes he becomes conscious of the fact that he enjoyed the killing. Over the years of his master's control, evil had seeped into his soul. He went on to kill hundreds of people until he was eventually stopped by another wizard. But the cuffs are a magical artifact, that have been infused with his magic. They were given to muggles because the residual magic has no effect on them. On a wizard however, it has devastating consequences."

"How so?" Hermione questioned.

"If a wizard wore the cuffs he would be under their owner's influence forever, and inherit the slave's bloodthirst."

"That explains why someone wants them so badly."

"You should call Harry. This is a precarious situation, Hermione," Bill said. "Only a wizard would know the true value of the cuffs and they obviously have plans for them."

"I will," she promised. "I do have another question, which is unrelated to this. Do you remember a wizard who was able to do magic without a wand, spells or incantations?"

"You mean silent magic that flows without a medium?" Bill question her, his brow furrowing. "The only person ever capable of that was the Sorcerer Merlin. There's speculation however that was simply a myth. No one has been able to do it for centuries." Well, Harry most certainly had.

She left the closet, avoiding scrutiny, and got a cup of coffee from the break room. She doctored it with cream and sugar, pondering what to do next.

This was exactly the sort of thing she was supposed to be dealing with, but she wasn't sure how to work around the team. If Hotch found out she had the authority to go over his head he'd be furious. While Agent Hotchner had some problems with her, he'd set them aside and they'd worked together seamlessly on the last few cases. She took a sip of her coffee, wondering if that delicate peace wasn't about to be destroyed. There was no way she could let them know about her regular mission, Hermione decided. The only option was for her to have someone else go over their heads while making it look like she wasn't involved. An idea began to form.

* * *

"What do you mean the patriot act," Agent Hotchner demanded, glaring at the man in front of him.

"I mean that under section five of the patriot act, I have a right to claim jurisdiction from the FBI," the grey haired man responded.

"The NSA isn't qualified to investigate a serial killer."

"We've discovered ties to terrorism. I assure you this case is not what it appears to be and we're more than qualified to handle it from here. I'm also requisitioning Captain Granger. She's supposed to be here with you, correct?"

"Yes," Hotch bit out. "Why exactly will you be needing her?"

His eyes drifted behind the NSA agent to the small squadron of agents that flanked him.

"She's the expert on this kind of activity," was all he got in response. Aaron scowled, having no clue what that statement meant.

"We'll collect your files now and take Captain Granger along with us. Send her to the third floor conference room when you find her," the NSA agent said. "Your team's plane has already been prepared to return to Virginia."

"And don't let the door hit us on the way out," Aaron said coldly.

The NSA agent shrugged. "They have an automatic door, so I think you'll be fine. They're usually quite slow to close unless you're dawdling," the agent quipped before walking away.

Hotch stalked off in search of Granger. His hunt quickly yielded results in the break room. She had a note pad spread out, which she was scribbling on. Pausing in the doorway he took a moment to appreciate her work ethic. For all of his protests against her Aaron was forced to admit that he'd been handed a woman who was capable of doing the work of three people in half the time. It helped that she fit in nicely with the other members of the team, much to his surprise. Looking up from her notes she caught sight of him.

"I was just making notes over my conversation. It looks like the myth is a lot more intense than the internet suggests," she greeted.

"That's none of my concern now," Hotch replied. "The FBI is off the case and we're turning over our files to them."

Her brow furrowed. "Okay."

"You're still on it. The NSA specifically requested you."

"The NSA?" she asked.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No," Hermione responded immediately. "Not at all. I'll go meet up with them."

She handed him the files she'd gathered before walking out.

"Wait," Aaron said. "Did you have any prior knowledge of this? Were you aware we were going to be ordered out?"

"I realized what was going on when I called my historian friend. I just wasn't expecting it to happen this soon."

Hotch watched her with scrutiny and realized she was telling him the truth.

"Why?" he asked, unable to resist.

"I'm sorry, I can't reveal that information," Hermione said before heading upstairs to the conference room.

"I didn't expect you guys to get here this fast," Hermione announced when she walked in.

"Harry ordered us to get here as fast as we could. You're supposed to brief us," the grey haired NSA agent said.

"Thanks for the quick response, Seamus," Hermione told the disguised Irishman.

* * *

"What do you mean leave?" Morgan demanded. "We just got here. This is our case!"

"We've been ordered to leave," Hotch said resolutely. "This is now the NSA's jurisdiction."

"And how do they figure that?" Emily interjected. The brunette looked as peeved as Morgan.

"This has been reclassified as a terrorism case and we have been removed from it. That's all I know."

"So that's just the end of it? Can't we offer our help? We're the ones with the expertise," Spencer said.

"We leave in twenty minutes, gather your things." Hotch ordered, ignoring the protests.

Resignation settled over the team and they dispersed to gather their belongings. Hotch boxed up their files before collecting his overnight bag. Deciding that he wasn't going to walk their files up to the jerks who'd taken their case, he headed outside to the SUVs. The team was standing in a circle waiting for him.

"Where's Hermione," Rossi asked when he was within hearing range.

"She won't be coming with us. The NSA decided to keep her here as an asset."

"What?" Morgan and JJ demanded at the same time.

Hotch resisted the urge to sigh as he saw the outraged expressions form on the team's faces. "They asked for her and she went with them."

"They can't take a member of our team!" Spencer said.

"Technically Hermione is a member of the British Army and not the FBI. If her commanding officer agrees to it, she goes."

"Aren't you her commanding officer," Rossi asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Hotch said. "Which is why I don't particularly like having her on the team. Her first loyalty isn't to us."

"Isn't that a little harsh," Emily ventured. "She saved JJ's life with a nearly impossible shot last month. Between her and Reid they have an IQ of about a million."

"I agree that she's quite skilled and even charming sometimes. But Hermione has interests that may not align with those of this team in every situation. This being a prime example."

Morgan, Hermione's closest friend on the team crossed his arms defensively. "How do you know that she isn't out there protecting our best interests right now? We're not the only ones who fight crime."

"I didn't say she was a bad person. I just noted that the authority of the FBI is not of great importance to her. We profile serial killers and she fights terrorists. Those are two very far apart job descriptions, yet she remains on our team."

"She's monitoring crime waves, using our team as a base," Spencer inserted. "In the process she's helping us. It's a symbiotic relationship," he defended.

"What does she do about it though?" Hotch challenged.

They all glanced at each other, realization dawning.

"She went to call her friend the historian right before the NSA showed up. I asked her about it and I don't believe that they had any interaction beforehand. She was genuinely surprised that they were there. But she had already figured out the terrorism connection based on that phone call. What information does she have access to connect the events so quickly?

"Does it matter? It's above our security clearance. I trust Hermione to handle it," Morgan said, holding firm.

"Just keep it in mind," Hotch predicted ominously.

"Hey, guys, look!" Emily pointed across the parking lot. From where the team was standing they could see the side entrance of the police station, where a convoy of black government SUVs were idling.

Hermione stepped out with the agents.

The group had changed from their suits into a utilitarian uniform of cargo pants and long-sleeved shirts. Hotch took note that the grey haired agent who'd clashed with him before was no longer there. A new addition to the group was a compactly built man with short brown hair, who hadn't been with the original group.

"She's giving the orders," Rossi stated.

Once he said it, it was obvious. The team members stood around her, listening attentively to instructions of some sort. Captain Granger stood with her hands on her hips with her feet braced shoulder width apart, the common dominant body language of leaders. As quickly as they'd emerged the team got into their vehicles and drove off, in the opposite direction, leaving the BAU in stunned silence.

"Well I'd say there's something she hasn't mentioned," Rossi pipped up.

"That was a black ops unit," Emily spoke sounding shocked but certain.

The entire team faced her, seeking more information. "When I worked for Interpol we saw units like that. Hotch is right. When she finds a threat, I'd say she goes and after it directly."

* * *

"Are we sure that the unsub will respond," Hermione asked glancing at the crate in the back of the vehicle through the rear view mirror. It housed their bait, the Egyptian cuffs they'd just picked up. She felt like they were taking a big risk, dangling such a powerful object in front of a crazed killer. At the same time, the practical side of her acknowledged that it was their best shot at resolving this situation quickly.

The SUV was moving at a quick pace over the mostly deserted road, heading west towards the interstate. In the distance ahead she saw something dark in the middle of the road. Squinting for a closer look, she tried to bring it into focus. The car raced closer and she still couldn't make out what the spot was.

"Seamus are you seeing that?" Hermione asked, wondering if she wasn't losing her mind as the dot began to move towards them.

"Yeah."

From the back, Lee Jordan and Anthony Goldstein leaned forward, staring out the windshield. They squinted for a better look as they all watched with confusion at the figure grew closer.

"Bloody Hell!" Lee exclaimed. "It's an apparition!"

Hermione realized he was correct. The blackness rushing at them was a wizard who had dissolved himself into smoke, as Snape had been fond of doing.

"If he hits us going that fast, we'll flip," Seamus pointed out. "He'll bring a force field with him and we'll go flying like a gymnast off a springboard."

"I know," Hermione agreed. "We'll have to play chicken."

"With a force field?" Anthony asked, sounding doubtful.

"We're going to apparate out of the car to the side of the road just before we hit him. Somebody grab that box and take it with you," Hermione ordered quickly.

There was a shuffling in the back as one of the men grabbed the carte.

Seamus didn't slow down as the black cloud came hurtling towards them, its force field so strong it could be seen by the blurring of air around the smoke. The apparition was fifty feet away, and Seamus punched the gas to the floor. The car's engine roared and Hermione tensed, fear making her heart race and adrenaline flood through her veins. Thirty feet, coming even faster; ten feet, then five, then so close she couldn't see anything but blackness ahead.

"Now!" Hermione shouted and apparated away.

They each appeared on the side of the road, soon enough to watch in horror as the SUV was crushed by the force field. Metal screamed as it twisted into unnatural forms. The smoke destroyed the vehicle in a mere second, tearing it apart like it was wet newspaper.

Flashing by them, the smoke concentrated itself beside the flaming heap of metal. A flash of light and then the smoke became a man, clad in a long black leather trench coat.

The wizards drew their wands at the same time, both the D.A. and the stranger.

"I believe you have something of mine," the man said, his American accent clear.

"Come and get it," Lee shot back, stepping in front of the crate he'd dropped drawing his wand.

The stranger arched an arrogant brow, tilting his head to the side in consideration. He shrugged. "Alright."

That was the only warning they got before he released a barge of hexes and spells. Seamus was hit by a stunner, Anthony by an unidentifiable blue hex, before Hermione was able to block a bombardia spell directed at her and Lee. The man was quick, having halved their numbers almost instantly. Hermione threw a bat boogey hex at him watching as the pack dive bombed him, seeking his eyes with their claws. He threw up a shield and desperately shot killing curses at them.

Seamus, recovered, rolled from his prone position to his feet, and shot a well-aimed expellaramius at the American wizard. The wand flew from his hand and the remaining bats finally found their target. Before they scratched him up too badly Hermione preformed a binding spell on him and waved away the bats. Lee rushed forward and grabbed their charge as he struggled in his restraints. Hermione returned to the crate, cracking it open and removing the protective spell around it. She pushed aside the curator's bubble wrapped padding and found the cuffs were still in their rightful place. She tucked the cuffs away into the pouch on her belt for safe keeping and walked back to the road. Lee had a strong grip on the furious wizard. Hermione approached him, looking the tall thin man up and down, coming to a stop in front of him.

He spat at her, missing by a mile. Hermione didn't flinch which made him even angrier.

"You stupid mudblood!" he growled, eyes glowing with hate.

"Isn't it a bit warm for that coat," Hermione asked mildly as if she hadn't heard his taunt. "I mean it's April, which is almost summer in Tennessee. How are you not drowning in sweat?"

"None of your business," the stranger snapped.

"So, trying to lift a pair of fancy bracelets?" Seamus asked, drawing the attention away from Hermione.

The man laughed. "You idiots have no idea what I'd be capable of with those cuffs. You're too stupid to imagine the consequences of what's about to happen. The reckoning is approaching!" He shouted at them, becoming almost feral and lunging forward at Seamus, only to be jerked back by Lee. "The D.A. will be destroyed and England will be under righteous authority!"

"Righteous authority, huh." Anthony commented drolly. "When did Death Eaters start using big words?"

The prisoner spat and cursed again, but didn't struggle.

"So you're going to take over the world with a pair of pretty bracelets?" Hermione asked. "The whole mind control thing might be cute, but they only control one person. That's hardly going to turn the tide of the war."

He snorted at her but held his peace. There was a wariness about him that Hermione could sense from being in so many FBI interrogations and watching the BAU work.

"Let me level with you Mr…"

"Smith. John Smith," he offered smugly.

"Mr. Smith," Hermione echoed calmly. "I already know your plan."

Smith raised his jaw looking down his nose at her from his superior height. "You couldn't possibly comprehend the plan of a Death Eater, Miss Granger. We're a higher breed than you mudbloods, in every way, but particularly in intelligence."

"The reason you're not sweating in that coat is because you just got here. For the past day you've been in the Death Eater State in southern England working with their leaders who recently told you your mission. Until today you didn't know who they intended to put them on."

"That's absurd!" John Smith hissed. "I just killed someone here yesterday! I had no portkey to get to England with."

"The D.A. is aware that it was provided to you by the Death Eaters, who you've worked for since you were fifteen. Like your father before you did, trying to spread their message here in the U.S. But unfortunately for you, you've outlived your usefulness. Why else would they send you into a trap?"

"A what?" the prisoner demanded, looking flummoxed.

"A trap, Mr. Smith. Where's that higher intelligence you were talking about?"

"It wasn't a trap! They'll have me out by morning!"

"You got sent directly to the only squadron of D.A. soldiers in this country by accident?" Hermione asked. "We're the only people who could take out a wizard of your skill, but somehow you inadvertently found us, by random coincidence? If you believe that, you're dumber than a sack of rocks. They never wanted to use the cuffs on Harry. They set a trap for you to test the D.A.'s presence in the U.S."

"They don't intend to use the cuffs on Harry," Smith protested, much too quickly.

The D.A. laughed and their prisoner looked frantic. "They don't!" he insisted.

"There's only one individual who could turn the tide of a war," Hermione said, "and that's Harry Potter."

John Smith's bluster faded as he realized that he'd been taken for a fool.

"Take him to our site," Hermione ordered with finality.

"Yes, ma'am," the men chorused.

"Wait? I'm not going to Washington D.C.? I'm an American citizen! You can't take me to Azkaban!"

"You've admitted Death Eater ties," Hermione said. "That means you're ours."

"Hey don't worry, man. We're not taking you to Azkaban," Lee reassured him cheerfully.

"We're taking you somewhere much worse," Anthony told him.

"Here," Hermione said as she gave Seamus the portkey that would take him back to Magical London. "Thanks for coming."

"Anytime," the Irishman smiled. "I have a feeling things are about to get a lot busier for you and me over here."

"It looks like it," Hermione agreed.

* * *

A knock sounded on the door of Hotch's office late that night, just as he made the decision to head home. He looked up to find Hermione Granger standing in his doorway looking a bit dusty. The agent took in her ruffled appearance and the grime clinging her boots, realizing that she'd come directly to his office.

"What can I do for you, Captain," he offered politely, hoping this wouldn't take up too much of his time.

"I'm just dropping off my report," Hermione said, entering the office.

Hotch took the file she offered and she took a seat. With interest he opened the file, only to be greeted with the black streaks of censorship. Aaron flicked a few pages, coming to the conclusion that he had about half of the document.

"This is a _report?_ " he demanded.

"I asked my boss for permission to bring you in the loop on some of our missions, seeing as I'm under your command here at the FBI."

"Half of a report doesn't make me in the loop," Aaron shot back.

"I have no control over that. I asked and he did what he thought was best."

"How long have you been on black ops?" Hotch threw back unpredictably, expecting it to illicit a reaction from her.

Instead the woman smiled serenely. "If that's what you'd like to call them, I've been on them for a while."

The profiler in him heard an insinuation in her voice that he couldn't help but latch on to. "That's a fairly ambiguous term," he pressed.

"Yes it is," Hermione said, the smile dropping. "And that's all I have to say on the matter."

"This thing is a joke," Hotch said, flipping a page of the file she'd given him.

"It's more than you had this morning and it's all I have to offer," Hermione said, rising from her seat. "I'd hoped to build some trust between us, but I've now come to the realization that's impossible. Have a nice night, Agent."

Hermione stalked out of his office.

He watched her leave through the window of his office, as an unpleasant feeling of guilt stirred inside of him. "Wait!"

Hotch grabbed his briefcase and coat and rushed after her. She paused next to the doors to the lobby and was waiting expectantly.

"I apologize for being unfair to you," Hotch said when he reached her. "I'm not entirely comfortable having someone on my team whose motivations I can't account for. Everyone else is in this department because they want to catch criminals. You're here to do whatever you're commanding officer tells you to do, and it's not a situation I feel comfortable with."

"I am here to catch criminals," Hermione said. "Ones that hangout in areas your team frequents. If you read the report I gave you, I think you'll find enough in there to make you comfortable with my being on the team. If not, you can fire me tomorrow, no questions asked."

"I can't fire you," Hotch objected. "You know that."

"I can request reassignment," Hermione said. "If you are so sure that I'm a threat to the team, after reading my report I'll leave at your request. I won't tell my commanding officers why, but I will secure placement on another unit in the FBI."

Hotch stared at the Captain, searching her for signs of falsehood. There was nothing.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I like the members of your team. I realize that you've built an efficient team that won't work long term if you always have a problem trusting me. This is where I would like to work, don't get me wrong, but if I'm going to ruin this unit I will leave it."

"You know what it's like to build a team," Hotch said, understanding hitting him.

"And see it ruined," Hermione replied.

The senior agent nodded. "I'll review this file. If I want you off the team, I'll call you before eight tomorrow morning."

* * *

 **Please review.**


	8. Chapter 8: A Friendship Potion

**A/N: Firstly, I apologize for my long absence from writing this series. What caused it you ask? Short answer: everything. Long answer: Papers were due after midterms. Finals snuck up out of nowhere. I moved back home for the summer and I've been enjoying my vacation before I start my summer job. And by enjoying I mean that I've been catching up on sleep. Sorry for the absence and thank you for sticking with this story.**

 **Attention: This story has also been nominated for Favorite Crossover at the Better in Texas Fiction website. If you'd like to vote for us the page is linked on my profile. ****To vote on the website the link is on the very bottom left hand of the page. I'm letting you know a bit late, so I don't expect to win, but I'm very happy that my work was nominated. It was huge confidence booster so to whoever nominated me- THANK YOU!**

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stared down at the potion in his hand with a grimace. He wasn't going to enjoy what he was about to do but there was no way around it. Polyjuice potions tasted vile, so he tossed back the mixture like a shot and winced as it burned down his throat. How he missed the days when he'd possessed the authority to have an underling do these errands for him. The effects of the potion were almost instant and he began to shrink, lower and lower, becoming much smaller than his natural form. Bones were constricted and he held out his hands to watch in morbid fascination as his pale skin darkened to olive. As soon as the effect was complete he took out a pocket mirror to check his work.

Hideous, Lucius thought staring into the tiny mirror at his new face. It was babyish and round, just like the child he'd plucked a hair from this morning though.

Snapping the mirror shut he transfigured his clothes into attire appropriate for a ten-year-old. The wizard made his way towards the playground and once his feet hit the rubber safety mat of the concourse he easily spotted his prey. Jack Hotchner was exactly where Lucius had expected him to be, playing the sport he loved on the fields. It was a strange muggle creation that was played using a black and white ball that one kicked about. There weren't many kids Jack's age on the playground so he went for the direct approach, jogging over to the blonde boy. He felt the eyes of the boy's aunt on him but didn't glance her way. From the corner of his eye he saw her smile slightly, looking pleased. It was lucky that he had found the ingredients for polyjuice potion. In the body of a child his approach was unsuspicious and even welcomed.

"Hey!" Lucius said, momentarily surprised by the childlike tenor to his voice. A hideous sound to go with this hideous body, he thought.

Jack turned and looked at him for only a second before his face split into a huge grin. "Hey! Do you play soccer? Are you new here?"

The warm enthusiasm was strange to Lucius but he responded in the same manner. "I'm Carlos and I've only played a little. I moved in a little while ago. You're the only other kid my age around here," Lucius said shyly. "Can I play with you?"

"Sure," Jack was quick to say. "I know a ton about soccer, I can teach you everything about it."

Excellent, Lucius thought. It was so simple to establish a repertoire with children.

Picking up the game didn't take him very long. Soccer shared some similarities with Quidditch and Jack was a good teacher, for a ten-year-old. They went over drills on passing, shooting and dribbling until Lucius was proficient in all three areas. When he was assured of his skills he proposed a game of one on one. Jack was quick to agree. Using the space between two park benches as one goal and two pine trees as the other, the boys settled into a fast paced game. Despite not wanting to, Lucius enjoyed himself. The afternoon slipped away as they competed for points that they'd both stopped counting. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucius saw Jessica packing up her purse. He stopped the ball with the inside of his foot and turned to Jack.

"It looks like it's time for you to go," he said to his new friend.

Jack looked over his shoulder at his aunt and sighed. "Yeah. What about you?"

"I have to be back before dinner."

"Have you joined any sports leagues? A couple of kids who play on my usual team moved away. We're looking for more players, if you live in the area you can join."

 _Delivery time_ , Lucius thought eagerly. "I just moved here," he said.

"From where?" Jack asked curiously.

"Colorado," Lucius replied pulling a random state out of the air. He was only half sure Colorado was actually a state but Jack nodded so he figured his lie was plausible.

"Joining the soccer league would be a good way to make friends."

Deliberately, Lucius looked down at the toes of his sneakers and shrugged uncertainly. He made his body language uncertain, twisting his hands and refusing to make eye contact. The wizard willed himself to look small and unsure. "We move around a lot," he said quietly. "I don't know if I'll be able to stay through the whole season."

"Oh, your family is military?" Jack asked, looking surprised. "We have a lot of families moving in and out of Virginia. It'll be fine."

"We're probably going to move to Texas soon."

"Oh," Jack said, looking surprised. "How long have you lived here?"

"Two weeks."

"How do you make friends when you move around so much?"

"I don't. I've never had a friend." Delivering this devastating revelation with hunched shoulders and lowered eyes, he could practically _feel_ Jack's sympathy hanging in the air.

"I'll be your friend. If you can't join the league, we can still practice in the park."

Lucius looked up, pretending to be stunned. This was exactly the reaction he'd been banking on. "Really?" A hopeful smile graced his face and Jack was eating it up.

"I'd love to, I'll even invite my other friends from soccer and we can have real game sometime."

He grinned, knowing that he'd hit the jackpot. "I'd like that a lot. My grandmother gave me this when I moved for the first time," he said, pulling a braided bracelet out of his pocket. "She made me one too, and said I should give the other to the first friend that I made." Lucius showed Jack the matching bracelet on his own wrist before offering him the second band. Jack took it and admired it for a moment before tying it around his wrist. The heady feeling of victory danced in Lucius' chest when Jack finished double knotting the tie. That bracelet couldn't be removed now even if Jack wanted it to be.

"When did you first move?" Jack inquired.

"When I was four. We've moved thirteen times since then."

"That stinks," his friend offered.

"Jack!" Jessica called from the park bench. "Time to go!"

"I'll see you later," Jack said. "Here."

Much to Lucius' surprise, the blonde boy handed over his soccer ball. "I can't take this, it's yours" he objected.

"You need it more than me." With those words in parting, Jack sprinted away.

* * *

"What the hell?!" Hermione screamed.

Lucius sighed and cracked his neck. Transforming back from a polyjuice potion wasn't as easy as it looked, particularly when the potion made you smaller. Perhaps it was his age, he thought grimly, twirling Hermione's wand between his palms.

"You heard me," he admonished the disarmed witch, shooting her a dark look.

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. Lucius sat on her sofa with his feet propped up on her coffee table. He'd just explained his scheme to her, detailing how he'd spent his afternoon with Jack Hotchner. She was struggling to grasp it, but she was muggle born so maybe it was an intellectual issue.

"Let me review," Lucius offered. "Jack Hotchner is wearing a hexed bracelet that I gave him. Either you do whatever I ask, or in eight hours the boy dies when the hex takes effect and stops his heart. It's quite simple."

"Jack would never accept a hexed bracelet from someone he didn't know," she spat.

"In his defense, he thought I was a lonely military brat," the Death Eater said. Experimentally Lucius shot a blasting curse with the witch's wand, shattering a vase on her mantle.

"What was that for?"

"Just experimenting," Lucius replied airily. "Works like a charm."

Hermione stalked back and forth by the window while Lucius watched her. "Fine!" she growled. "I surrender! Take me to the Death Eater State and kill me, just let Jack go. He's a child. He doesn't deserve this."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "How dramatic and self-sacrificing. I'm not taking you to The State."

"Why?"

"Because there's been too much turn over in management," Lucius told her. "No one in power respects the old guard. A good reputation and talent don't mean anything anymore. All that matters to these lowlifes that have high jacked the Death Eaters is results. They don't even confirm pureblood status," he bit out. "All they care about is what you produce for them."

"So you're taking my dead body to The State," Hermione jabbed.

"I won't deprive them of the pleasure killing you will bring," he snorted. "It should be a group activity for all the trouble you've caused us. Not what I had in mind at all."

"What could you possibly want from me," Hermione demanded.

"Don't sell yourself so short," Lucius stated, rising from his chair. "You have so much to offer me."

He crossed the room, coming to stand in front of her. The pureblood warlock towered over her and she felt like a bug being looked down on, but held her ground anyways. Her eyes fell to her wand, grasped in loosely in Lucius' pale fingers.

"I still remember the day I realized that I'd underestimated you," he said, surprising her.

"And when was that," she hedged, considering her options for taking back her wand. She could sucker punch him in the stomach or knee him in the groin and go for her weapon.

"The day that you robbed Gringotts Bank. It was quite a feat, Miss Granger. Hopefully you're up for another go round."

Hermione's eyes widened and shot to his. "I'm sorry what?"

"You heard me," Lucius dismissed. "Your skills have been proven time and again. It's time to put them to use for a worthy cause."

"By that you mean working for Death Eaters," Hermione accused.

"I actually meant by working for me, but same difference," Lucius mused. He pulled a piece of parchment from his jacket and spread it out on the coffee table. Hermione stepped closer and studied it, realizing that it was a schematic of the National Treasury of the United States.

The National Treasury was the Federal Bank of wizarding America and it backed the United States wizarding monetary system. They controlled everything from interest rates to the buying and selling of open market bonds. According to rumor there was over three billion dollars' worth of gold stored under the building as liquid assets to insure against financial collapse. Her heart beat sped up as she grasped the challenge that Lucius was throwing down for her. Jack's life for her robbing the National Bank of the United States. Fear paralyzed her as she realized the magnitude of her situation. Her mind conjured the picture of Jack Hotchner lying in a coffin if she failed. Hermione had only met the boy once, but he reminded her of Teddy and she couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes. Lucius would kill Jack like a normal person would swat a fly.

"I can't do this," she said. "I had help last time. Harry stunned the guard, Griphook knew the layout, Ron provided my back up and I was disguised!"

"You'll have help this time," Lucius promised, turning to the fire place. He performed an incantation and green flames exploded. The flames leaped and danced growing larger and larger. Suddenly there was loud bang and a portly older man in a three-piece suit fell out of the fire and landed at Lucius' feet.

He rolled over groaning. "What the heck? Where am I?"

"Welcome to Hermione Granger's apartment," Lucius greeted him cordially. "I'm Lucius Malfoy. We haven't met before."

At Lucius' name, the man went pale. "You escaped from Azkaban! I read it in the paper!"

"I did."

"He'll go back as soon as Harry knows he's missing," Hermione assured the newcomer.

"You place a lot of faith in someone who spent half the war wandering around the forest," Lucius drawled mockingly.

"What do want form me!" the hefty man demanded belligerently.

"This is Simon Eaton," Lucius told Hermione. "He's the Treasurer of the United States and the manager of the National Bank. He should be quite helpful to you."

"Helpful?" Simon inquired, looking baffled.

"We're going to rob the National Bank," Hermione told him flatly.

For a moment Mr. Eaton looked shocked but he quickly composed himself. Spinning around, he faced down Lucius. "I refuse," he snapped.

"Do you?" Lucius jeered. "I'd quite enjoy that." He turned to Hermione. "I'll be ridding the world of one more vermin. It always makes me feel so….. cheerful."

Her stomach turned over at the delight in Lucius' shark like eyes. She faced Simon.

"Mr. Eaton, you don't know me and you don't have any reason to trust me. But I'm telling you that a little boy's life hangs in the balance. His name is Jack Hotchner and he's ten years old. This man placed a hexed bracelet on him this afternoon. If we don't do what he says, he'll kill Jack. That's why I'm doing this."

Mr. Eaton swallowed hard. "How can I believe you?"

Hermione pulled out her military I.D. card from her pocket and handed it to him. "I really am Hermione Granger," she told him.

He straightened looking at her properly for the first time, studying her in detail. He squinted at her picture on the card and peered at her one more time. "My goodness," he exclaimed. "It is you! I didn't recognize you at first."

"Lovely. Now that you've been introduced, go fetch me all the gold in that treasury," Lucius ordered.

* * *

Hermione followed closely behind Simon Eaton as they entered the back of the National Bank. The beautiful Neoclassical building wasn't as pretty from the alley way. Green slime decorated the cinderblock walls around them and it felt about ten degrees colder.

Simon fumbled with the door's lock and then forced it open. "We don't use this entrance anymore," he explained quietly. "It's not up to code for a bank to have multiple entry points but we haven't gotten around to fixing this old building."

He shoved on the door with a hard push from his shoulder. It opened with a loud creak and Hermione flinched at the sound as she followed Mr. Eaton inside. The banker led her into the lobby and towards the front of the building. Just as they turned the corner, he paused, halting. "Look," Simon said softly turning to face her. "I didn't want to tell you about this before, but you need to know. There are guards in the vault."

"What?" Hermione hissed. "In the vault? Like inside of it?"

"They patrol the tunnels leading to it."

"How many? Where?"

"They're on rotation. They walk through and do periodic checks on the contents. Usually there are four guards but I gave Thomas the night off because his wife is sick."

"Three guards are manageable," Hermione said. "What about wards and protection spells?"

"I can undo all of those," Simon assured her. "But I can't go inside with you. The structure of the spells is designed to detect my stress and fear to prevent a situation just like this one."

"Fine. Give me directions then."

The banker pulled a pad and pen from his suit jacket's interior pocket. He drew a corridor with a fork that led to two separate vaults as Hermione watched.

"The gold that Malfoy wants is housed in the two vaults at the end," he told her. "Half is kept in each location to make theft more difficult. You'll need to undo some of the spells near the end yourself. I can't reach them and they're the most complicated spells."

"Of course," Hermione muttered.

"If you got past the Thief's Downfall in Gringotts, you'll be able to get past this," Simon promised with confidence that Hermione didn't feel. She gripped the handle of her wand tighter and tried to figure out how to get a message out. Lucius had charmed her wand so he'd know every single spell she did and he'd done the same to Simon. She had to get help for Jack, but she couldn't think of a way.

"Ready?" the banker asked her as he finished with the map.

"As I'll ever be," Hermione said.

"Think about the cost if we don't deliver," Simon advised her, passing her the crudely drawn diagram.

"I'm thinking about the cost even if we deliver. There's no guarantee that Jack isn't already dead."

The banker looked shaken by her observation. "We have no way to get help," he replied.

"Maybe not," Hermione said, looking down at her wand. "Do you have a phone?"

"No. Those muggle devices don't work in this world, there's too much interference from magic."

"Isn't the vault sealed?" Hermione asked him.

"Yes. The second vault more so because it's close to the D.C. underground. To avoid interfering their technology we had to use fewer spells on it. But I would caution you it is well defended."

"It's protected from all outside magic, correct? No spells or charms inside of it?"

"I see where you're going with this but it's unlikely. The idea that a phone could work down there is debatable and we don't even have one," Simon argued. "It's too risky. A boy's life hangs in the balance."

"If we don't do something we're practically killing him."

Simon shuddered, then wiped his hands over his face and met her eyes. "Fine. I think I know of a way to get a message out. One of the tellers has a non-magical wife. He has a cell phone that he takes out to the muggle word on his lunch break to call her."

"And?" Hermione prompted.

"He leaves it in his desk."

"You undo the wards," she told him. "Lucius is tracking our wands and he might get suspicious if we waste time."

Simon instructed her which teller's desk to search and pulled back the paneling at the back of the lobby to reveal a set of stairs. From there he undid spells, charms, hexes and jinxes. By the time that Hermione returned he was half way done. She stood back and watched as he worked, her nerves finally settling in. Simon finished quickly and turned to her with a fine sheen of sweat beaded on his brow.

"It's open as far as the vault. This is a far as I can take you. Just remember, there are only spells over the vaults. I've undone everything else. The spells are in a random rotation so no one knows what spells are covering the vault on any particular day. Remember to be careful of the guards."

Hermione nodded and disillusioned herself. She took a deep breath as she stepped down the first step of the stairwell.

"Good luck," Simon told her grimly.

* * *

A sharp ring from the rotary telephone on Harry's desk startled him.

"What?" Harry answered it. The phone was designed to work despite the magical interference and he used the device to speak to muggle authorities that the D.A. cooperated with joint operations.

Hermione's voice came through. "Harry?"

"What's up?"

"I'm in the middle of robbing the National Treasury of the Magical United States."

"Need any help?"

"No!"

"It was just an offer," Harry said at her offended tone. "How are you even calling me from there?"

"One of the bank employees is married to muggle and he leaves his cell phone in his desk. His absent mindedness is my life line," she explained. "Listen, I don't have much time. Lucius is in D.C. he's given Jack Hotchner a hexed bracelet that he says will kill him. I need you to get that bracelet off of him."

"Whoa, slow down. Start from the beginning," Harry ordered straightening in his chair.

Hermione back tracked and started again. She told Harry how Lucius had been in her apartment after she'd gotten back from the assignment in Tennessee. She relayed, almost word for word, her conversation with Lucius and the plan to rob the Treasury.

There was a crash on the other end of the line. "Hermione?"

"I have to go," she said quickly. "Save Jack. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to him."

The line went dead and Harry sat frozen. Then he dialed the number for the director of the FBI.

* * *

Hermione shot a bombardia spell behind her, hoping to slow down the approaching guard. While she'd been on the phone, one of the pallets of gold that she had minimized rejected the spell and re-enlarged itself, knocking into the wall with a crash. Now she was trapped in the second vault with a bag of enough gold to bank roll a small nation and three guards firing on her. She needed something big to get out of this situation but there was no dragon for her to steal this time. A killing curse hit the wall beside her and she heard the guard's footsteps moving closer. The vault was a square room with one door and no other points of entry. She was pinned down. Yet another killing curse flashed just over the top of her head.

"Come out with your hands above your head!" one of the guards yelled.

Hermione realized that she had no options. If she surrendered, Jack would die. If she didn't surrender, she would die and so would Jack. There was no decision to be made. She put her wand on the floor and pushed it towards the door in a sign of surrender.

"I'm unarmed!" she shouted. "I'm coming out."

"Hands over your head, move slowly," the guard instructed.

She did as he asked and with deliberate steps she moved into the door way. The moment that she was in the guard's line of vision, a white spell hit her square in the chest.

Hermione dropped to the ground as a wave of pain almost made her lose consciousness. A stunner? No, those were red. A body binding spell, she realized. The guards approached her and her arms were wrenched unpleasantly behind her back. Through a magical haze she felt herself being lifted by magic and carried through the same tunnels that she'd raced through earlier. The guards walked behind her so that she couldn't see them, but she could hear three distinct sets of footsteps. A numbness spread through Hermione's chest as she thought of Jack Hotchner. She was sorry that she'd failed him. In the lobby the group stopped.

"Where's the other guy?" a voice asked.

"What other guy?" the guard who'd shot her with the spell asked.

"He was just here. I stunned him."

"Expellaramius! Stuplify!" Simon's voice cut through the air, and there was the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Cries of pain and grunts sounded as more spells flew. Simon was battling the guards with everything he had. Suddenly she dropped from the where she hung, suspended in the air and crashed to the marble floor.

"I'm so sorry," Simon apologized rushing over and kneeling by her side. He performed a spell and she felt the body binding magic ease.

"No apology necessary. That was impressive," Hermione told the banker, propping herself up on her elbows.

"I was the head of the East Coast Dueling club my senior year," he said with a bashful smile.

The familiar crack of aparation behind them had both wizards spinning to face Lucius Malfoy. "Very good," the pale man praised, studying the scene in the lobby. Hermione glanced at the guards, all of which were unconscious. As she looked back towards Lucius, he flicked his wand, wordlessly sending out a green curse. Hermione realized what it was an instant too late. She flung herself in front of Simon, but the spell flew by her and struck him in the chest. Simon Eaton was dead before he hit the floor.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. As always I'd love to hear from you guys. Comments, thoughts, opinions and constructive criticism is all welcome. Click the review button, you know you want to….**


	9. Chapter 9: A Nott Dead Death Eater

**A/N: Thank you to all of the readers, reviewers and those who favorited or followed this work. You guys keep me going! I would first like to apologize for telling you this work would be up "shortly". I thought it would be, but in saying so in print I must have jinxed myself. After posting that I was asked to babysit, pet sit and house sit all in rapid succession. Then five people at my job quit and I was asked to work twice my normal hours. I promise you I feel very guilty for the long absence. Hope the chapter makes up for it.**

 **NOTE: An observant reviewer let me know that I was unclear in my time line of this story. To clarify, these events are taking place directly after Hotch and Hermione spoke in the last chapter. She arrived home on that night to find Lucius in her apartment, which is where I picked up her point of view from, without letting the readers know the chronology events. It was an oversight, and a sloppy one at that.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

 **The Nott Dead Death Eater**

Sitting in his Quantico office, the Director of the FBI wearily closed his eyes. It had been a long week for Carl Reitman. Not because of any official business- on that front all was well. Both petty and violent crime were down in recent months, so things at the Bureau were running smoothly. His troubles were of the personal variety. Two days ago his wife of thirty-five years had finally left him. All that time playing second fiddle to the job had finally gotten to her. Susan had left him for a man ten years his junior, who she'd met at her gym. Carl supposed that he deserved it after working eighty hour weeks for the past twenty years to get this position and putting in upward of that to keep it. Prying his eyes open, he looked at the couch, wondering if anyone would notice if he spent the night in his office. Going home was awful because for a moment he always expected to see his wife's things lying around. A pair of shoes in the entry way, her coat slung over the back of the couch and so on. Every night that he went home to an empty house made something inside of him die a little bit more.

His miserable thoughts were interrupted by a loud pop that made him jump out of his chair. He accidentally knocked over a tray of outgoing papers, sending documents scattering in every direction. In front of him, where there had once been an empty guest chair sat a sharply dressed military man. The intruder flicked his wand and the papers on the floor fluttered back onto his desk, arranged themselves in proper order, and slid back into the tray. Incredulous, Reitman watched as the tray straightened to its original position. The Director took a deep breath, fighting to hide his discomfort before facing down his dark haired guest. Something about this man always made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Commander Potter," he greeted cordially. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to speak with Agents Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi immediately," Potter said without preamble.

"He and his team returned around seven this evening. He's finishing up paperwork now," Reitman said. He sat down and dialed Hotchner's office line, relaying the message. The team leader told him he'd bring Agent Rossi up with him, sparing him a second phone call. Reitman hung up and regarded his guest carefully. It was the man's eyes that were strange he decided. They were a shade of unnatural emerald green that glowed against his pale skin as they took in every little detail.

"They'll be just a moment," Reitman stated.

Potter nodded silently and an uncomfortable silence descended. The director drummed his fingers on his desk. "So why the urgent call?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

"There's been a terrorist attack," Harry replied briefly.

"Of what nature? Against whom?" the FBI director demanded, sitting forward in his chair. "Was it in the United States?"

"In the Magical United States," Harry confirmed. "Our intelligence indicates that it began while the BAU team was returning from Nashville. Hermione is currently a hostage."

Before Reitman could respond, the door to his office swung open. Aaron Hotchner entered first with Rossi following closely behind him. Harry noted the spark of recognition in Rossi's eyes when he looked at him.

"Major Potter," the Italian greeted him with a raised eyebrow.

Stepping forward, Harry extended his hand to Agent Hotchner.

"You must be Hermione's boss," the profiler said.

"As you've heard from Agent Rossi, no doubt," Harry said smoothly.

Hotch didn't deny it. "Yes. What's the meaning of all this?"

"Captain Granger is being held hostage by a terrorist," Harry said flatly. "She was able to get a message to me a short while ago."

"I'll assemble the team," Rossi told the men, reaching into his jacket for his phone.

"Anything we can do to help," Aaron put in. Despite himself, he was concerned.

"I'd rather you didn't make that call," Harry said to Rossi.

Both men looked surprised. "And is there a reason for that?" Hotch demanded. His eyes were hard as he glared at the tall man. While Hermione wasn't his favorite person in the world, he considered it his duty to look out for her as a member of his team and a human being.

"I suppose now would be the best time to get this part over with," Harry grumbled. With reluctance he pulled his wand out and waved it towards the Director's desk. A burst of blue light shot out and Carl Reitman dove for cover, thinking the spell was intended for him.

When the spell hit the desk there was a flash of white light. For a moment, the muggles were blinded. When their vision cleared, a puppy sat where the director's desk had been.

Rossi swore, while Hotch stood rooted to the spot, an expression of disbelief on his face. Director Reitman had dived for cover behind a side table that flanked his desk. Lying prone with his hands over his head, he peaked over his shoulder to see a golden retriever puppy sitting in the mess of papers, pens and office supplies that had once decorated his desk. The puppy caught sight of him and bounded over to lick his face. Reitman jerked away, startled by the very real feel of a wet tongue on the side of his jaw.

"What the hell was that," Hotch demanded, stepping backwards warily. His eyes were telling him that he'd just seen a desk turned into a puppy, but his mind was arguing they were mistaken.

"I'm a wizard and Hermione is a witch," Major Potter said. "If you need more persuasion, I can demonstrate further."

"We're good," Reitman interrupted from the floor. He'd sat up and the puppy had taken advantage by hopping into his lap. The director was struggling to keep a hold of the wiggly animal as it tried repeatedly to jump up his chest to lavish him with slobbery kisses.

"So I take it that this terrorist is… like you," Rossi asked. He hadn't taken his eyes off of the puppy yet, as if he thought the animal might vanish into thin air.

"Yes. Hermione identified her hostage taker as Lucius Malfoy, a known dark wizard. He's a member of a group known as the Death Eaters. They're similar to Nazis in their ideology and they believe that only pure blood wizards are really wizards. If a wizard is born from non-magical folk, as Hermione is, they are considered inferior and targeted."

"Is that why they've taken Hermione?" Hotch inquired.

"In part. She's a very powerful witch and they needed her to complete a bank heist. We believe this operation was successful. As of right now, the Magical Treasury of the United States has been robbed of more than thirty million in gold and we're considering this event a terrorist attack. What concerns the FBI is that Hermione went along with their demands because your son is being threatened."

"Jack is in danger?"

"We believe so," Harry replied.

Pivoting on his heel, Hotch stalked towards the exit. Harry snapped his fingers and the door swung shut. An audible click announced its locking.

"Don't you dare," Aaron growled at the wizard, turning back around to face Potter. He stepped up so that the two men, similar in height, were nose to nose. "All I have left is my son. I am _not_ going to sit here while he is in danger."

"I've moved a team of soldiers to your home. One of them took a potion to disguise himself as your sister-in-law, Jessica. The rest are invisible."

"If he's in protective custody, what's the threat," Rossi asked, forcing his way between Hotch and Major Potter.

"He was given a charmed bracelet. Hermione informed me that it will kill Jack in eight hours."

At this information, Hotch went deathly pale.

"Sit down," Rossi ordered, shoving his friend into a nearby chair.

"We're doing everything in our power to protect your son," Harry said.

From his pocket he pulled a shard of mirror and tapped it with his wand. The mirror shimmered in his hand before it emitted a voice. "Major Potter this is Lieutenant Finnegan."

Turning the mirror so that Hotch and Rossi could see, Harry asked, "Passcode?"

"Chocolate Frogs," Jessica's reflection said from the mirror.

"Meet Lieutenant Seamus Finnegan," Harry introduced. "He's keeping an eye on your son and trying to remove the bracelet."

"What progress have you made," Hotch rasped.

"We've confirmed that the bracelet is charmed with a spell that affects cardiac function. It appears to be on a timed delay, as Hermione said."

"What do you mean affects cardiac function," Rossi asked Jessica's look alike.

"It will stop the boy's heart if we can't remove it in time," the figure in the mirror told him. "We tried a counter jinx but the charm is protected by several hexes. Before we can do anything to the bracelet we have to get through the hexes."

"Start with an examining spell. It should indicate what the hexes are," Harry advised. "Keep working and update me on the hour. I'm going to take agents Rossi and Hotchner to Hermione's residence and see if we can't find anything that might lead us to her. The other team is on their way to the National Treasury."

"I've got the situation under control," Seamus said confidently. "I'll be in touch."

The mirror went dark and Harry tucked it back into his coat pocket.

"Let's go," he said to Rossi and Hotch. He headed for the door with the two profilers on his heels. Director Reitman grimly watched the trio leave his office, hoping they'd find a way to save Jack Hotchner. The puppy squirmed in his lap, leaping for his face again.

 _Damn this furry little monster_ , Reitman thought, pushing it away.

Undeterred the puppy sprang back up, this time knocking the man off balance. The Director caught himself with his free hand, but by then the puppy had already climbed up his chest to lavish him with enthusiastic kisses. He pulled the puppy off his face and started rubbing its ears to distract it. Immediately the little dog began to wag its tail and pant happily. Despite the terrible night he'd just had, the Director smiled. It was a cute puppy and with Susan gone he needed companionship. He could probably get a dog walker without too much trouble and there was always pet daycare for while he was at work. If he had to stay late at the office he could have his niece, a grad student at Georgetown, pet sit for him. It would be a good way for her to earn some extra income without feeling like she was accepting a handout he thought, stroking the puppy's silky fur. Glancing around his destroyed office, Carl decided it was time to call it a night. He picked up the puppy and headed for the parking garage, still smiling.

* * *

Hermione stumbled as Lucius shoved her forwards. With trepidation she eyed the gangplank that led to a two-masted schooner. On the walk from the Treasury building to the industrial docks of magical Washington, she'd been in something of a haze. Reeling from Simon's murder, Hermione had blindly allowed herself to be herded along for the better part of a mile. Now standing at the bottom of the gangplank, her self-preservation was setting in.

"Move, mudblood," the dark wizard hissed. Before she could take a step he grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her at an unnatural angle.

"Ahhh," Hermione gasped, stepping forward. Lucius pushed her up the plank towards the ship, twisting her arm further when she tried to jerk away. Once they were aboard he wrenched her around and waved his wand, spending a burst of magic that hit her in the chest.

"What was that?" Hermione demanded.

"A tethering charm. You're not able to move more than six feet away from me." Lucius explained as he dug in the pockets of his robe. He withdrew a vial and handed it to her. "Drink this."

"No," she refused. "I don't know what that is."

"It's polyjuice and it's for your own protection," Lucius said. "The crew of this boat might not be very excited to know that you're on board, understand?" Malfoy pointed his wand straight at her throat. "I'm intent on getting you back to England alive. Now do as I say."

With no other choice in sight, Hermione downed the vile tasting potion in one swallow. The effects were immediate and she felt herself growing taller, her hair shortening. Lucius cast the spell to transfigure her clothes and when she looked down, she found she was in a man's body wearing jeans, a long sleeved shirt and boots. Her transformation was just in time.

From behind them a hatch banged open and a short man in strode towards them.

"Lucius Malfoy! I was wondering if you were going to be late." The man's voice was hoarse as he spoke.

"I'm never late," the pale man proclaimed. "Name one time in the past twenty years that I've been late, Nott."

Nott? As in Theodore Nott's father? Hadn't he died in the Battle of Hogwarts?

Hermione watched in horror as Harmon Nott approached, very much alive. Immediately she noticed a family resemblance between father and son. Harmon was a thinly built man who barely came up to Lucius' shoulder, with the same prominent overbite she remembered Theodore having. His gaze fell to her and she masked her expression. Too late it seemed as the former Death Eater sneered. "Surprised to see this old man alive?" he asked with hostility.

"Ah…. Yes," Hermione responded. Lucius' bony fingers tightened their grip on her elbow. "I mean-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Nott interrupted her. "The government reported me dead, but when have they ever been a reliable source of information?" He dismissed her with an irritated wave, turning to Lucius. "You sure this is the recruit Mulciber wanted you to get? He doesn't seem very with it."

"He's a bit sea sick," Lucius responded icily. "If you wouldn't mind showing us to our quarters, we're eager to be on our way."

"You'll dine with the crew first," Nott said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "They've been dying to hear how you got out of Azkaban."

"Fine," Lucius said with a dark scowl. Nott apparently didn't care and turned to lead them below deck. Lucius kept Hermione between him and Nott as they walked down the stairs.

The roar of voices hit her as soon as they were below deck. In amazement, Hermione stopped on the bottom step and looked around the mess hall. More than a hundred people of various ages, races, and genders were crowded around long tables chattering animatedly among themselves. Below deck it was clear the ship had been magically expanded. The dining area alone was twice the size it should have been by the laws of physics. Hermione didn't see any faces she recognized but she kept her eyes peeled as she followed Lucius to the front of the ship. Nott stopped at the front of the dining hall where a raised table was prepared.

"Welcome to the Captain's table," he announced proudly.

"An honor," Lucius replied sardonically looking down his nose at the worn table.

"It's a pirate ship not a mansion, you lout," Nott grumbled. He turned to face the rambunctious room while Hermione processed his last words.

A pirate ship? The former Death Eater, Harmon Nott, had become a pirate? It was insane, but made perfect sense. There was no better place to hide than in the middle of the ocean. Magical governments didn't declare territorial waters or patrol the seas. Nott could have gone almost anywhere in the world and as long as he stayed on the ship, no one would be looking for him. How many other war criminals had done the same?

"ATTENTION!" Nott screamed to the room. Only a few heads turned towards him and Lucius snickered. The pirate's face became ruddy with embarrassment. With a furious sideways glance, he put his wand to his throat, amplifying his voice. This time the cry of "Attention!" was so loud Hermione's ears rang.

This time the ruckus quieted down and the crew turned to face their captain. "Everyone, please welcome Lucius Malfoy, a veteran of the Death Eaters and our honored guest."

The applause was thunderous as room cheered in excitement. Some of the pirates pounded on the table and whistled their approval.

Nott grabbed Hermione by the elbow and pulled her forward. "And with him, the newest Death Eater recruit," he broke off suddenly. Leaning in the man elbowed her in the ribs. "Hey, what was your name kid?"

"Jason," Hermione replied quickly.

"Jason!" Nott pronounced grandly, causing the room to cheer and clap once more. "As you know we're providing them passage back to The State, so expect to be seeing them around the ship. Lastly, for a special treat Lucius will tell us how he escaped Azkaban prison after the feast! Eat up everyone!"

Nott clapped his hands and a banquet appeared. The tables became filled with roasted whole turkeys, patters of steak, bowls of dumpling and steaming plates of vegetables.

The situation was so bizarre Hermione felt as though she'd stepped into the twilight zone. She followed Lucius up to the raised table, where Nott seated them on either side of him. Over dinner most of Nott's attention was on his conversation with Lucius. They discussed which of Voldemort's followers were still active, and who among the imprisoned Death Eaters were still sane. Hermione listened closely for any information she could glean while pushing food around on her plate.

"Why don't we talk privately," Nott suggested to Lucius as dinner was nearing its close.

"I'd rather-," Lucius began.

"It wasn't a request Malfoy," Nott interrupted, standing from the table.

The blonde man looked disgruntled at being ordered around. "I don't think you remember who I am," he snapped.

Nott planted one hand on the table and braced the other on the back of Lucius' chair, cornering him. He leaned down into the Death Eater's personal space and spoke harshly. "You've fallen pretty far, old friend. We're going to discuss terms of passage in my cabin. That bag of gold on your companion is going to be a few pounds lighter by the time you get to The State, understand?"

A muscle ticked in Malfoy's jaw as Nott stared him down. "There will be hell to pay for this," he snarled.

"You overestimate your reach," Nott said with amusement. "Gentlemen, please follow me."

Hermione trailed after Lucius and Nott as they exited a side door that took them to the ships main passageway. Nott took them in the fore direction towards the bow of the ship. She'd been in magically expanded tents before, but Hermione was stunned by the distance they had to walk before turning. Descending down a second flight of stairs they entered a common room where a guard sat at a table flipping through a copy of the Daily Prophet. Nott gave him a casual salute that was barely acknowledged before taking them down another hall to the great cabin. The three of them shuffled into the room single file and Nott closed the door behind them. Lucius perched himself on the desk while Nott pulled out his chair and settled into it. For a long uncomfortable moment, the men stared at each other.

"How much do you want?" Lucius said breaking the silence.

"Depends on how much you've got. Why don't you let me take a look?" he suggested turning to Hermione.

She handed him the bag without resistance, taking pleasure in the furious glare Lucius sent her.

The pirate opened the sack and pulled out his wand, mumbling a few words she couldn't make out. The bag glowed and sparks flew out of the opening before a slip of paper was spat out. The old Death Eater grabbed it before it fluttered to the ground and whistled in delight.

"Thirty-two million, gentlemen. That is quite the haul! You've got enough to start up a small economy."

Lucius shifted. "Let's negotiate, Nott."

The short man snorted. "We are negotiating. I'll take a small cut of five million and you'll get safe passage to England as I promised yesterday. There, negotiation over."

"That's unreasonable," Lucius groused. "The State's superiors are expecting me to deliver a sum of at least thirty million."

"Are they?" Nott said carelessly, pulling out a cigar from a box on his desk. He snatched a pack of matches off of the end table by his bunk and lit up. "Such a pity. Why work for those crazy fools? You could always take the money and cut loose. Look at me, I'm living the dream," he proclaimed, propping his feet up on the desk beside Lucius and puffing out rings of smoke with a smug grin.

The blonde wizard looked ready to strangle Nott. "You have nothing out here," he hissed. "No power, no respect, no impact! You're sailing around like a sixty-year-old Peter Pan while wizarding society rots to the core."

"Huh," Nott said contemplatively. "I think it's your head that's rotted, Malfoy. You're a slave to a doomed cause."

Malfoy flushed and clenched his fists. His gaze flicked to Hermione. "Wait in the other room," he barked.

She glanced over her shoulder. The hallway that led to the cabin was at least ten feet long, a distance farther than her tethering charm would allow. Hermione sent Lucius a questioning look that read, how? Lucius flicked his wand, and she felt the spell ease.

"We're in the middle of the ocean," Lucius said casually, his eyes boring into Hermione's face.

"Yup," Nott said. He beamed with pride as he spoke. "We set sail during the feast. By now we're about a thousand nautical miles from D.C. She runs so smooth you could hardly tell."

Making eye contact with Hermione, Malfoy smiled. "I guess there's no way off this ship."

"Nope," Nott seconded. "No deserting on this ship! There's an aparation ward around the ship that extends more than a mile. And forget swimming in these waters if you want to see your next birthday."

 _Son of a gun_ , Hermione cursed as she left the captains' quarters and headed for the other room. There was no way off this damned ship.

Out in the common room the guard was still engrossed in his paper. He didn't so much as glance at Hermione as she entered the room. She ignored him and went to the porthole to check Lucius' observation. All she could see through the window was darkness. It was a moonless night and her eyes could barely differentiate between what was ocean and what was sky. A dozen expletives danced through her mind as she turned away from the porthole. She had to do something but in the middle of the Atlantic, what could she do?

Hermione was exhausted. Today had drained her energy, between the case in Nashville, lying to Hotch and her first official state side operation as an Auror, she felt like she'd been raked over hot coals. The last thing she needed was to be dragged around the world by Lucius _Freaking_ Malfoy and a band of Death Eater sympathizing pirates. Across the room the guard crackled over the funnies and Hermione sent him her iciest glare. He didn't even register that she was in the room. _A_ _m I so insignificant?_ Hermione wondered. Perhaps her presence wasn't worth acknowledging at all.

Dejected by the general state of her affairs Hermione sank down by the wall and shut her eyes. Jack's face appeared in her mind's eye, reminding her of what she was trying to escape. He had less than eight hours to live. At that thought, something important tickled at the back of her mind. Thinking back, Hermione frowned.

Was it eight hours? Lucius had said so, but he'd most likely meant eight hours from the time that the bracelet had been put on. In hastiness, she'd taken the eight-hour deadline as beginning when Lucius had told her, but charms couldn't work on a delay.

Her head spun, trying to absorb the thought. When had Jack put on the bracelet? It had to be prior to Lucius arriving at her apartment. Wracking her brain, Hermione tried to think through the adrenaline. She'd left Quantico at eight, but traffic on the freeway had been bad. By the time she'd made it home it was already five past nine. Screwing her eyes shut, Hermione willed herself to remember everything about her confrontation with Lucius.

Mentally she sent herself back to the apartment. In her mind's eye she visualized herself walking up stairs to her apartment. She'd been tired and distracted, which was probably why she hadn't noticed the wards around her apartment were down. Initially there had been a struggle. Lucius had blindsided her with a stunner when she stepped through the door. It had knocked her clear off her feet and into the wall, where she'd hit her head on the corner of a shelf. He'd captured her wand before she'd even managed to draw it from her sleeve. With her wand secured Malfoy had knocked her out. When she'd come around he'd been sitting on her sofa, twirling her wand between his palms.

Her words came back to her. _"What do you want, Malfoy?"_

" _It's less about what I want and more about what you want," the dark wizard had said cryptically._

" _I don't want anything from you."_

" _Considering that I played a lovely soccer match with Jack Hotchner this afternoon, I'm sure you're mistaken," Lucius replied, his smirk widening._

 _Hermione froze, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. "Jack Hotchner?"_

" _Yes, your boss' son. Such a lovely, caring young boy. It made giving him that charmed bracelet so much easier. In eight hours he'll be dead and I won't have to lift a finger. Aren't charms the best?"_

Snapping back to reality, Hermione opened her eyes.

Jack must have been given the bracelet sometime before the team got home. Logically, he would have been playing during daylight hours. The sun set at about 7:30 in April, and the hour before that was dusk. That put the latest time for him to get the bracelet at 6:30. But he'd said afternoon, which generally meant 12pm to 6pm. Her gut insisted Jack had gotten the bracelet earlier. Hermione knew that Jack's school let out at 3:30 because on Fridays Hotch left early to pick him if the team didn't have a case. The variable she wasn't sure of was his afterschool routine. Practically, Jack would have to get home, change and get to the park, so Hermione put the earliest he could have gotten the bracelet at 4:00 pm. Eight hours from 4 would mean Jack had until midnight to live. Swallowing hard, Hermione checked her watch. The blinking green numbers read 11:23. Numbly, Hermione stood. She had to get off this boat and get to Muggle Washington D.C. within the next thirty minutes.

The angry sound Lucius and Nott's voices could still be heard coming from the captain's cabin. Her wand was still in Lucius' custody, Hermione realized as she felt for it. Looking around the room for a weapon, her eyes settled on the rolling bar against the far wall. It was loaded with every type of liquor imaginable, and about half of them were unopened. The heaviest looking of the bottles was a full three-liter jug of fire whiskey.

Hefting the crystal bottle, Hermione quietly made her way towards the table. The guard had his back to her and was absorbed in his Daily Prophet, completely unaware he was being hunted.

Three more steps would put her in range of the guard. Carefully she moved forwards relieved at each step that didn't make the floorboards creak. Bringing the heavy bottle up behind her, she took the last step forward just as the boat pitched. She was thrown off balance and stumbled, causing the guard to turn towards her. Swiftly Hermione swung the bottle at his head with all her might. Instantly the man went down. The blow had been much too loud, and her eyes went to the door of the captain's quarters. She held her breath, believing at any second Lucius and Nott would come running. Nothing happened.

Knowing her luck was running out with each minute she wasted, Hermione searched the unconscious guard for his wand. Finding the item, she did a few test spells and found that while it was difficult to use it wasn't as bad as she'd expected. Hermione braced herself for what she was about to do and then waved the wand.

"Imperio," she whispered. The curse woke the guard and he jolted awake, blinking in surprise. His blank expression assured her the curse had worked.

"Where do you keep the potion ingredients," she asked him.

Dumbly he pointed to the bar that she'd taken the whiskey bottle from. Hermione dug through the top and came up empty before realizing the cart had a small bottom drawer. She threw it open and pulled out a tray with dozens of tiny bottles. Setting it down Hermione dug through the compartment further, searching for the rest of the ingredients. There were some boxes that had fallen to the bottom and she prayed they were what she needed.

Box one was labeled "Lacewing Flies – stewed twenty-one days."

"Thank heavens," Hermione muttered, pulling it out along with the other boxes. More raiding of the bar cart produced a Boomslang skin and Fluxweed which she could only hope had been picked at full moon. There was a bowl of ice on top of the bar and she dumped the bowl's contents into the drawer to hide her activities. Using it as a cauldron she began to add ingredients to make a polyjuice potion. As she worked she kept one eye on the door and listened closely to the muffled sounds of Lucius and Nott's voices. Their volume had grown and at one point she thought she heard a spell ricochet. There was nothing to stir with so she used her hands wincing as the mixture heated to near boiling when she added the Boomslang skin. For her last ingredient she plucked a hair from her head dropped it into the mixture. With bated breath she waited for it to bubble.

The potion didn't so much as fizz.

"Damn it," Hermione swore as tears pricked behind her eyes. She needed to buy time if she wanted to get off this ship and the potion was the only way to do it. Agitatedly she shook the bowl, sloshing the contents all around. As if she'd willed them into existence, bubbles appeared. Dazedly, Hermione wondered if she was seeing things.

Shaking off her astonishment Hermione picked up the bowl and handed it to the guard, ordering him to drink. He picked up the bowl with both hands and chugged obediently. The spell worked rapidly and she watched at the pirate was transformed into her regular likeness. As distractions went it wasn't very good but it would have to do. Hopefully Lucius would assume that the polyjuice he'd given her had worn off. She didn't allow her mind to think about what would happen to the guard. Knowing what little she did of Harmon Nott, it wasn't difficult to imagine his fate. Focusing on the fact that Jack needed her she transfigured his clothing and gave him final instructions. "When they see you, run. When you can't run anymore, fight them."

Hermione raced back up the steps and headed in the aft direction. She had no real plan, only the determination that she was going to get off this ship one way or another. After what felt like a million twists and turns, she found a stairwell up to the deck of the ship. Salty sea air hit her in the face as she made her way towards the balustrade.

Lucius' words echoed in her mind. _There's no way off the ship._ Nott's warning joined in chorus as she climbed over the railing and balanced herself on the edge. _There's an aparation ward around the ship that extends more than a mile. No one who wants to see their next birthday would swim in those waters._ Staring down at the churning black waters, a sense of hopelessness sunk in. _You have to try,_ she told herself firmly, staring down at the roiling waves as the brackish wind whipped her hair across her face. There resounding crash from below deck and Hermione tensed, wondering if the guard had been discovered.

There was no time to waste she decided, and flung herself down into the angry waters of the Atlantic.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. Please review!**


	10. Chapter 10: Sacrifice

**A/N: Sorry for the extended hiatus. My semester in college turned out to be more difficult than I had anticipated, which was why I wasn't able to update. But I'm back now and finals are over! Hallelujah!**

 **Thanks to everyone for their reviews, favorites, follows and for reading. Your encouragement keeps me going.**

* * *

The agents and Harry walked down a narrow street, heavy with foot traffic, toward the Greek Revival building which housed the National Treasury. Both muggles were gawking at their surroundings as they trailed after Potter. Hotch couldn't believe his own eyes. He scanned his surroundings as he walked, swiveling his head to take in every detail. Rossi elbowed Hotch discreetly and nodded towards a hand painted green sign advertising a new shipment of _"Dragon's Blood- for all of your potion making needs."_

The men exchanged a look somewhere between horror and curiosity.

"Coming?" Harry inquired over his shoulder.

"Right behind you," Rossi said. "So, dragons?"

"What about them?" Potter asked as they mounted the marble steps of the Treasury.

"Do they exist?" Hotch demanded, feeling his heart rate pick up at the thought.

"In our world, yes, in the muggle world, no. We removed them around the 12th century- they were too much of a threat to humans."

"Thank goodness," Rossi mumbled.

They reached the top of the stairs and Harry threw open the doors with a casual snap of his fingers. The action was so nonchalant it almost escaped notice. Aaron gritted his teeth as he acknowledged that for this man, all manner of things beyond belief were effortless. Things like creating a bracelet capable of killing his son. Fear pooled in the seasoned agent's stomach as he entered the bank behind Harry and Rossi. He tried to ignore the pain piercing his chest, a constant companion to the paternal terror he was struggling against. When he thought about Jack he could hardly breathe. Trying to assimilate the idea that magic existed and Hermione was a witch was a task currently beyond him. So, he compartmentalized, as he often did. He'd adjust his world view another time. Right now, he needed to be present and focus on saving his son. Harry had reassured him that Jack was in the best possible hands. That meant the only way he could help was to track down the person with the most information about the threat to his son's life. They would find Lucius Malfoy and Hermione as quickly as possible, he promised himself.

Inside the National Treasury was a flurry of activity. A group of people, presumably wizarding police judging by the badges around their necks, were cloistered near the center of the lobby. Hotch's eyes were drawn to the sheet draped figures at their feet. _Casualties,_ he thought.

Harry made no move to approach as he paused, taking a moment to carefully observe the situation. Hotch turned his gaze to the younger man, observing him properly for the first time. He looked to be in his early thirties, if not a little older. His most prominent feature were his jade green eyes that were so pigmented it was eerie. Hotch had never seen eyes that color before on anything, animal or human. There were fine lines around his eyes and mouth, with a few gray hairs creeping in at his temples.

"Commander Potter," a voice broke in.

Hotch found the source of the voice to be a short, round man that could have passed for Danny DeVito's twin. From his thick glasses, ill-kempt balding hair and prominent double chin he looked the antithesis of a police officer.

"Agents, this is Inspector Hollis of the American Auror Department. He's in charge of the investigation here. Do you have an update for us, sir?"

"This is the work of Hermione Granger. But she had help," Hollis announced. He jerked his thumb towards the left side of the lobby. The group's eyes swung to another sheet draped figure. "You'll never believe who's under there."

Hollis walked them over to the corpse and waved his wand pulling away the cover. An elderly man, significantly over weight, with a white moustache was revealed. He still wore the frames of aviator style eyeglasses that had been broken during whatever events had led to his demise. Rossi and Hotch looked to Harry for any sign of recognition. When he spoke his face was expressionless.

"This is Simon Eaton. He was Treasurer of the United States. Part of his duties were to manage the National Bank."

"This is economic terrorism," Inspector Hollis accused Harry. "Perpetuated by an agent of the British government!"

"She was acting on coercion," Potter told him icily.

Hollis didn't back down. "Your country may be in total disarray but the States aren't. Yet, that is. If your war keeps spilling over into our country, we'll ban immigration and put a moratorium on all trade deals with you people!"

"Don't let your personal preferences color our dealings, Hollis. Now what was taken from the vault?"

"Everything. All of the gold in the Treasury is gone."

* * *

Hermione was completely numb. The vague sensation of pain danced somewhere on the edges of her consciousness but disorientation stopped her from processing it. She was floating in icy water, she realized after a while. That was the source of her numbness. Sprawled flat on her back, staring up at bright stars, she felt almost peaceful. Rather deliriously she gazed at the night sky, unfettered by the lights and smog of the city, and wondered where she was. How long had she been in the water? Why wasn't she cold? A frigid wave splashed into her face, and with it came awareness. She gasped and then choked as another wave hit her. Black edged around her vision as agony raced through her nervous system.

 _I have to move. I'm freezing to death,_ Hermione realized.

The icy temperature of the sea felt like millions of needles piercing her skin. It was so cold. Her heart beat double time in her chest and her mind reeled, unfunctional. A weakness took over her body so that she couldn't move to swim or tread water. Only the saltwater's density was keeping her afloat. Her lungs couldn't take in air, even though she was floating in quiet waters. Breath came to her by short shallow gasps and it felt like the world was closing in around her. This was it. This was how she would die.

Acceptance washed over her and she closed her eyes.

 _But how will Jack die?_ A voice in the back of her mind begged the question.

It might be painful and slow. It might not. But for Hotch, it would be devastating.

 _I can't let that happen,_ Hermione thought. The thought gave her the will to access the last of her failing strength. And so, with grueling effort, she began to swim.

* * *

Jack Hotcher lay in his bedroom slumbering peacefully. His sleep was dreamless, restful, and unnatural. The boy looked pale and his fingernails were turning gray. Every breath he took was a struggle. His body fought for life while his mind was held in a strong sleeping spell that made him completely unaware of the peril he faced.

Seamus Finnegan looked at his watch and mentally counted the hours he had left to work on Jack Hotchner. The answer was too few. He'd spent the past few hours removing more than three dozen spells that protected the bracelet and had finally gotten down to the curse threatening Jack's life. It hadn't been what he'd expected. The curse was dark magic that fed off Jack's life force, keeping itself entwined in the electrical system of his heart. If the curse was removed, the electrical pulses that caused his heart to beat would stop - killing him.

If it wasn't removed, Jack's life force would be eaten away.

Looking down at the boy, Seamus wondered how long that would be. The spell seemed to be on a faster clock than Harry had told him to expect and he couldn't find a way to slow it down. The door to Jack's bedroom swung open and Dean Thomas stepped inside.

"Harry just called for an update. I told him that you'd removed the spells protecting the bracelet and were studying the curse."

"I've studied it," Seamus said grimly.

"And?"

"This is our worst-case scenario. It's wrapped around his heart so I can't remove it. If I so much as touch it with a counter curse, it will stop the electrical pulses that trigger his heart beat. But if I don't he'll die anyways. The curse is eating away his life force and he doesn't have long left."

Dean's eyes widened. "But we have hours to go. This doesn't make sense."

"The spell is working faster than I thought it would. There's nothing more I can do for him at this stage. This curse has taken too much of a toll on his strength for him to survive the counter curse, if one even existed."

"Do I call Harry?" Dean asked uncertainly.

Seamus weighed the issue. He wanted Harry out there looking for Hermione with all the help he could get. But at the same time, Agent Hotchner had a right to be with his son during his last moments.

"Call Harry. Tell him what's happened and to bring Agent Hotchner here. He should spend whatever time remains with his son."

Without a word, Dean left the room.

Seamus pushed his chair back from the bedside and stood up. His spine cracked when he moved, evidence of the past few hours he'd spent hunched over Jack working on the bracelet. Nervous energy buzzed along his nerves as the Irishman began to pace the length of the room. The question of other remedies for Jack hung in his mind. Could Hermione have saved him? She was a brilliant and talented witch that was capable of almost anything. Maybe she could have thought of a way to remove the curse.

"Dean!" Seamus yelled, storming out of the room.

Dean bolted up the stairs meeting Seamus on the landing in front of Jack's room. "What!? What's happened?"

"I'm going to find Hermione."

"Why? You're supposed to stay with Jack," Dean pointed out.

"Harry is bringing Hotch in. Have him stay and do what he can to stave off the effects of the spell for as long as he can. Potter might be able to strengthen Jack's life force with an attachment spell."

"An attachment spell?" Dean asked blankly, his brow crinkling. "What's that, like a binding spell?"

"No. Binding spells are more literal than attachment spells. A binding spell conjures ropes and such. An attachment spell is different," Seamus explained. "It's done to transfer strength between people by attaching their life forces. Healers used to do it during the dragon pox epidemic to give extremely ill people a better chance at survival. Harry might be able to lend Jack some of his strength and keep him alive until I can get Hermione here."

"What can Hermione do for him?" Dean pointed out.

"If I knew that I'd be doing it myself," Seamus snapped, the stress shortening his temper. "She knows more about magic than anyone I've met besides Dumbledore. I can't let this kid die without knowing that I did everything I could. Just tell Harry about the spell."

With that, Seamus disapparated. He appeared as close as he could to the National Treasury and walked until he reached the building. Briefly he took stock of his surroundings, noting the groups of aurors standing around the entrance of the bank. By federal regulation banks could only have one entrance and one exit, so he was sure Hermione and Lucius had left this way. The U.S. Department of Magical Transportation seriously regulated disapparating within the area around the Capital building. If he'd wanted to disapparate, Lucius would have had to walk at least ten blocks to get away from the anti-apparation wards. Seamus mulled it over in his mind, trying to think like a crazy Death Eater who'd just escaped prison.

 _Is Lucius still able to apparate intercontinentally?_ Seamus wondered, thinking about the wizard's time in Azkaban. The place had been a hell hole before the war and after it had grown worse. Currently, it housed two times more inmates than it could handle. The prison had also hired more dementors to guard the prisoners, keeping them weaker and more despondent than ever. There was no way Lucius was strong enough to apparate to England Seamus decided.

If that was so, then the only way for him to get away was to walk. From there Seamus supposed that he could have taken a portkey, but those were restricted due to the increased number of Death Eaters fleeing to the U.S. The government had put taboos on the spell to create portkeys and only issued them to wizards who filled out paper work with the immigration office.

There was no magical way for Lucius to leave.

 _How would I get out?_ Seamus wondered. Looking around he thought of all the other methods of magical travel available. There were trains that ran between New York, Washington, and Atlanta. But they had too many passengers for Lucius to go unrecognized. There were always brooms. Flying cars were legal and capable of long distances. But none of those options could make it all the way across the ocean.

 _He's taking a ship_ , Seamus realized. It made perfect sense; the docks were only ten blocks from the Treasury, after all. He set off towards the harbor.

When he arrived, he saw there were several ships still in port. Seamus headed towards the modular office that served the docks, electing to start his search in their records. The office lock was a joke and the wards were child's play. Not that there was probably anything inside worth stealing he reflected as he slipped inside the dingy room, which smelled strongly of coffee grounds. Seamus found the ship records for the week and scanned over the list.

At first it looked normal. Passenger ships were listed at the top of the page and cargo ships at the bottom. In the wizarding world, cargo ships only transported explosive material that couldn't be moved by magic. Other items moved by cargo ship included some potion ingredients, certain kinds of dragons, and regulated materials that were subject to strict biosecurity laws. But in general, cargo ships were rare. So rare in fact, that they went by ten-digit international identification numbers instead of names.

The manifest showed that several cruise ships had docked in the week. Four had brought passengers from South America and the others from Nova Scotia and Newfoundland. They had no connection to Europe and served reputable companies so he eliminated them as suspects. He investigated the cargo ships next. Most of the companies were ones he'd heard of before. Only one entry stuck out. A cargo ship named "Francesca Dilectus" which was registered at the Port de Calais. That was just across the channel for England, in France. _Spitting distance from the Death Eater State_ , Seamus thought.

The name of the ship bothered him. They'd taught Latin at Hogwarts, but it had been ages ago. He barely remembered any of it.

 _You know this,_ Seamus coached himself, trying to jog his memory. The answer danced on the edge of his mind, so close he could almost grab it. Beloved! Dilectus meant beloved. Francesca, Beloved. That was the name of the ship. It was a strange name, Seamus thought. Almost as strange as a cargo ship being named at all. Then it all clicked.

 _It's not a cargo ship. It's a passenger ship._

The customs agent must have recorded it as a cargo ship without bothering to change the name. So, this was how Hermione was to be smuggled out. Memorizing the slip number, Seamus headed out to the location. He had no plan, but he figured he'd make it up as he went. Aside from being his friend, Hermione was Jack's best shot at life. He rounded the corner and found an empty slip. For a moment, he stood frozen, not knowing what to do. The Francesca Dilectus was gone. Hermione was gone.

Jack's last hope was _gone._

A wave a nausea seized his abdomen powerfully. Blood roared in his ears. Hermione was probably dead by now, knowing Lucius. Without her, Jack was as good as dead. He needed to tell Harry to stop the attachment spell before it drained him as well. Feeling bleak, Seamus fumbled in his pocket for the enchanted mirror. He pulled his wand out of the inner pocket of his jacket and lifted it to tap the mirror.

A crack sounded, the tell-tale sign of apparition. Looking up, Seamus gasped, not believing his eyes. Hermione lay crumpled on the docks ten meters in front of him.

"Granger!" he shouted.

A muffled groan met his call. Sprinting towards Hermione, Seamus fell to his knees beside her collapsed figure. "Hermione!" he gasped, flipping her over. She was horribly pale and barely breathing. Immediately he knew she'd been splinched. The Lieutenant jerked off her jacket and stripped her shirt away as well. There was a deep gash on her upper arm where she'd left behind some of the skin and muscle when apparating. He probed the wound and found that it wasn't as bad as he'd feared. With a simple healing spell, he closed the wound. Belatedly, he realized the splinching wasn't the cause of her condition.

Hermione was freezing.

From the salt in her hair and the state of her clothing he could tell that she'd been in the water recently. Seamus worked quickly, applying heating spells to various areas of her body before carefully warming her hands with a milder version of the spell. Her fingers had already turned blue and he was concerned that reheating them too quickly would do more harm than good. Just as he was finishing, she roused, choking up a mouthful of sea water. Wrenching out of his grasp, she spat the offending water from her lungs and slumped over, panting for air in pained gasps. Seamus grabbed her shoulders, steadying her as she propped herself up on her elbows, struggling for breath.

"What… happened?" she rasped out hoarsely, staring at him in confusion.

"You apparated here. Lucius must have thrown you overboard."

Her expression cleared. "Jack." Hermione bolted upright, almost knocking him over.

"Wait," Seamus, said trying to push her back down. "You need to rest for a minute. You're not recovered from the hypothermia or the splinching yet."

"There's no time! Jack only has minutes left!"

"You can't apparate! It might kill you."

"I don't care," Hermione countered fiercely.

"But-" Seamus' protest was cut off by Hermione's glare.

He'd seen this look many times during the past five years he'd been her lieutenant. There was no argument against this expression of determination.

"Alright." He extended his hand to her and she took it firmly. Closing his eyes, Seamus visualized the landing in front of Jack's bedroom. He felt the magic crackle around them and then the constriction around his chest as they were sucked through space. When the world stopped spinning he opened his eyes. Hermione swayed on her feet, looking even paler than she had before.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," Hermione ground out sounding anything but. She shoved open the door to Jack's room and stepped inside. The boy lay still and hardly breathing in the bed.

Hotch was sitting by Jack's bedside looking utterly distraught. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red. He sat like a statue, staring down at his son without blinking, his jaw clenched in misery. Agent Rossi leaned against Jack's desk in the corner looking almost as rough as Hotch did. Tears were still on the older man's face as he gazed at Jack. Seamus' eyes were drawn to Potter immediately. He sat beside Hotch, looking utterly lifeless. His already pale skin had turned ashen. He'd grasped both of Jack's hands in his and was sitting with his elbows braced on his knees, his head bowed. Even from the opposite side of the room the trembling of his body was visible. Seeing the toll the curse was taking on him was stunning. Fear bloomed in the Irishman's chest as he realized what the effect of his request had been.

Harry was in almost as bad of shape as Jack.

Seamus had seen death before and he could feel it drawing near as he looked at the boy. Hermione moved towards the bed, her feet dragging as she struggled to move on unsteady legs. Rossi raised his head, looking shocked by her sudden arrival. Hermione crossed the room, approaching Harry and Jack. The moment stretched out as silence hung over the room, blanketing the tension with fear.

She reached down and put her hands on top of Harry's, pulling him away from Jack. He collapsed as soon as the connection was broken, toppling out of his chair in utter exhaustion. No one moved. Hotch, Seamus and Rossi watched Hermione in trepidation. Nobody had to ask if she had a plan. It was clear that she did. Her hands grasped Jack's and the white light of pure, unfettered magic appeared between them. The light was extremely bright, brighter than Seamus had ever seen it burn. It flickered for a moment and Hermione grasped Jack's hands tighter, causing the magic to move. It snaked up to his wrist, circling the bracelet. The white light surrounded Jack's wrist once, twice, and then a third time. Magic encased the bracelet. Power crackled in the room so potent it could be heard. Hair on the back of Seamus' neck stood up. He'd never seen Hermione, or anyone for that matter, work with raw magic. This was exceptionally dangerous, for her and for Jack. Perhaps for everyone in the room. The magic moved, pulling the bracelet off Jack's wrist inch by inch. It moved down his hand and over his fingers, up Hermione's hand and then snapped on to her wrist with a sharp pop.

Hermione let go of the magic connecting her to Jack.

The magic burst, fragmenting like shards of glass in a wave of heat and electricity that engulfed the room. Its force hit like an earthquake, shaking the entire house. Hermione was sent flying back from the bed. Seamus fell as the house shuddered and shook, smacking his head on the door frame. Stars danced behind his eyes as he fought his way back to his feet. When his vision cleared, he saw Hermione crumpled on the floor in the middle of the room and Harry lying unconscious by the bed.

"Jack," Hotch breathed reverently, reaching down to brush the hair back from his son's face.

Looking over the boy, Seamus saw why Hotch was stunned. The boy looked a thousand times better than he had just seconds before. Color had returned to his face; his breathing was even and touching his throat Seamus found a strong pulse.

"He's doing much better," the Irishman told Hotch. "Let me get our medic to look him over."

"What about her?" Rossi asked. Hotch and Seamus turned around to see the Italian stooped over Hermione's unconscious form.

The bracelet was flashing with magic, green then blue lights dancing along its cuff.

"Step back," Seamus said, grabbing Rossi by the arm and pulling him away. "That thing is going to go off."

"Do something!" Dave demanded.

"She made her choice," Seamus said. "This was the only way to save Jack."

Hotch looked dismayed as he stared down at Hermione. He never would have asked her to sacrifice herself for his son. All the same, he couldn't stop the rush of gratitude that surged through him.

The door burst open and Anthony Goldstein, Lee Jordan, Terry Boot, and Blaise Zabini rushed in.

"Is everyone okay?" Jordan demanded. His eyes fell to the floor where Harry and Hermione lay.

"That wasn't an earthquake?" Terry ventured, looking at the men's faces.

"No."

Before Seamus could explain any further, Hermione's body jerked on the floor. The bracelet flashed the pattern of blue then green in rapid succession and then her body was seized with tremors. The shaking became convulsions as the wizards and agents watched with trepidation. Hermione's body finally stopped seizing after what felt like an eternity. Anthony, their medic crouched beside her.

"Careful," Seamus warned. "The residual magic might be unstable."

Anthony ignored him and checked Hermione's pulse. Apparently finding nothing, he leaned over her body, placing his check just above her mouth.

"She's breathing. Her pulse is barely there."

Beside him Rossi sighed with relief. "She might have survived, but she needs serious medical help," Anthony said. "I don't know if we should move her. The magic is still affecting her."

"The bracelet disintegrated," Lee announced.

Everyone looked at Hermione's wrist. Indeed, there was a burn mark around her wrist where the braided rope had been. Ash clung to her skin and decorated the floor.

Someone mumbled a swear word. Seamus mentally seconded the epitaph.

Harry groaned painfully from behind them. Seamus crouched down and checked him. Anthony crossed to them, taking Harry's pulse and palpating his body for injuries hidden under his clothes.

"Get off me," the raven-haired man snarled, pushing Anthony's hands away.

"Can't do that, sir. You're lucky to be alive right now." The medic waved his wand, doing a spell that made Harry hiss in discomfort. "That should get you back on your feet for now."

Harry grunted, and pulled himself to his feet with what looked like a great deal of effort. Seamus almost reached out to steady him when he faltered, but a hard look from the injured man stopped him. Harry's eyes fell on Hermione. The blood drained from his face.

"What happened?" he demanded harshly. His expression was tormented as he looked down at his best friend. For a moment, he thought she was dead but her hand twitched, her only sign of life.

Seamus answered him.

"She took the bracelet off Jack. The curse went into effect at about midnight, which was earlier than we'd thought. It's possible that her taking it off him triggered the curse. Either way, she saved his life."

"How bad is it?" Harry asked Anthony who was still working on the witch.

"She's critical. Her magic was affected severely and her heart rate is unstable."

"Magic?" Rossi asked the medic.

"Magic keeps us alive. If we don't have the proper amount that our body needs, we'll die," Harry said. "But it is possible to do a transfusion."

"Only if you have a match," Anthony spoke up. "She can't be moved because the curse's magic is still in her body. We would have to do a transfusion on the hospital. It's a dangerous and very rare procedure."

Harry dropped to his knees heavily, grasping Hermione's uninjured hand in his. It felt cold to the touch and reminded him of all the dead he'd touched when digging graves after Hogwarts. A bitter rush of emotion choked him. A lump rose in his throat and he pushed it back, more out of habit than anything else. He couldn't give into grief.

"I'm a match. Transfuse her with my magic."

Anthony was already shaking his head in rejection when Seamus spoke up.

"Sir, you're in no condition-" Seamus said.

"If you don't do it, I will make you regret it." Harry addressed Anthony in a flat voice. His gaze didn't waver from the medic. "I will be your worst enemy for the rest of your natural life if you don't do this. I swear on my mother's grave I will dog your every step and ruin _everything_ you ever try to create. Before you answer me just think about that, Goldstein."

The room was silent as shock reverberated through each person. Harry didn't back down from his threat. He held out his arm for Anthony expectantly. No one moved.

"Do it," Harry snarled. "Now!"

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. Please review.**


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